


No Longer No One

by Possibilities94



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AryaxGendry - Freeform, Badass Arya, Coming of Age, F/M, Fighting pit, Gendry is a Baratheon, Gladiators, Homecoming, House of Black and White, Identity Issues, Identity Reveal, Journey, King Stannis, Queen in the North, Ramsay is his own warning, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Stannis the Mannis, Varys is a badass, Violence, faceless men - Freeform, melisandre - Freeform, nosy varys, nymeria - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:23:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 32,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Possibilities94/pseuds/Possibilities94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nymeria finds No One in an unexpected place. Will No One become someone after all?<br/>Post ADWD. *CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR UP TO ADWD* Slight AU to be revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Post ADWD. Will only say this once- All recognizable characters/places are Martin's. All plot is mine:)

"She doesn't look ferocious," said the fat Tyroshi merchant. He took a noisy slurp of Dornish red from a jewel encrusted goblet as he inspected the creature in front of him. "I can't use house pets in the pits."

"Mightn't look like much m'lord, but she'll prove her worth where it counts," replied the Westerosi trader. The man was disheveled, a bare-thread cloak wrapped around his scrawny shoulders. There was a cold in his bones-the Tyroshi could see it. His grey eyes were haunted and hungry; a desperate man of desperate times. Winter had come to Westeros not two years past; it had settled in for a long stay, a houseguest who knew not when to leave.

News of this hard winter had reached the Summer Isles, along with tales of the blue eyed dead ones come back to life.

"A man was desperate for better times if he was willing to capture a creature such as this," thought the Tyroshi. He stroked his purple goatee as he pondered the man's asking price. The caged beast didn't look like much. Huddled in a corner, with matted hair and scars all over her body, it looked like an animal with no fighting spirit left. That would not do in the pits.

Taking a sharpened spear from a line of training instruments, the fat man stuck the point in between the bars of the cage towards the far corner where the animal was curled.

"M'lord I wouldn't do that..."started the Westerosi. He was viciously cut off by an ear splitting snarl as the beast leapt to her feet. She tore the spear from the merchant's hands and flung it to the far corner of the room.

Though she couldn't stand to her full height in the cage-even half starved and beaten-Nymeria's furious yellow eyes glared down at the purple bearded man.

Her actions did not intimidate as she had intended. The man sneered at her in a cold, calculating manner.

"She will do."

He turned on his heel and headed away from the direwolf, leaving Nymeria once again alone in her cage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Post ADWD. No grammar nazis. Reviews are love. Credit where credit is due aka Mr. Martin. The usual yadda yadda.
> 
> Also-Lyla is pronounced LIE-lah and Biro is bye-row. Millo-Mihl-low.
> 
> You're welcome because it drives me crazy when I don't know how to pronounce a name. XD

"We've got another one Lyla." The big Braavosi boy bustled into her bedroom. "C'mon get up."

Lyla groaned and rolled over. "Forget it. It's too early."

Biro threw open the windows so the light hit Lyla's eyes just right. "Too bad. Millo got new shipment last night. They need to be ready for the show two nights from now."

"Ugh. It makes me sick." Lyla spit on the stone floor. "Bastards get the glory and riches. We get the shit."

Biro chuckled. "That we do. Hopefully they'll be so drunk they won't notice if we dip into their winnings."

"I'll drink to that," Lyla said as she rolled out of bed. She reached for the wine skin on the nightstand from the night before but Biro snatched it out of her hand.

"Ah ah ah," he danced away as she glared at him. "Milo's boss is going to be there today so no drinking on the job."

Lyla growled at him. "How the hell am I supposed to make it through the day then?"

"You'll think of something," he said as he took a drink himself. Making a face he put it down. "Don't know how you can stand the stuff."

Lyla continued to glare at him as she pulled on a clean tunic and breeches. She was a tiny athletic thing with observant blue grey eyes and choppy shoulder length black hair. Her round face was always guarded, even though her tongue was quick to insult and even quicker to get her out of trouble. After 17 name days, give or take, she knew there was no hope for a womanly figure. However it was easier to go unspotted in a crowd if one didn't have huge breasts for the rest of the crowd to ogle at.

Ignoring Biro's continued commentary about different wines, she headed out the door. Even though Lyla had a drink- alright many drinks- every night, she was never so drunk that she did not have her wits nor her dagger about her. She was as quick with her weapon as she was with her tongue; both were becoming quietly notorious in working side of the Braavosi fighting pits.

Some of Meeren's previous fighters had fled when the Dragon Queen had arrived and abolished the pits there. They moved onto Braavos; a new city with new blood to be spilled. While no slaves were permitted to be brought from other Free Cities, animals, sellswords, and former pit fighters were essential in providing Braavos' newest entertainment.

Lyla and Biro trudged through the marketplace, avoiding the eyes and voices of the street merchants around them. Most sold fruit, trinkets, or household items. Some sold skin, a promise of soft silk and a warm bed in their eyes. Lyla did her best to ignore the people selling those certain wares. All things sexual made her uncomfortable. She'd kissed a few boys, fought with more, but none had made her wish for something more than friendship. As the duo stepped onto the ferry that would bring them to what the locals called "Commorte Island", she thought of how she and Biro had first met on the dreary place.


	3. Chapter 3

Biro was an ally; maybe even a friend. They had found each other when she was lurking on the outskirts of Commorte Island, looking for a way into the pits. She wanted to see the show, she explained. Biro expressed his surprise that such a small and unimposing creature had any interest in the brutality found in the pits.

"It's not really a place for young ladies," he explained.

His shock grew when he found a dagger at his ribs and a quiet smile on the girl's face.

"I'm not a lady," she said in a soft voice. "Please let me see the show."

After nearly shitting his pants, Biro had gotten her up close and personal to the fights. One of the empty entrance gates gave them a perfect view of the fights. When she watched animals and men mangle one another with a blank expression on her face, Biro knew she was no ordinary girl. Only when the shouts were silenced and the crowds dispersed did she comment that it made her sick to see blood spilled for entertainment. Then she proceeded to help him muck out the cells of the surviving animals, clean the wounds of the fighters, and washing the blood out from the pit. When all the work was finished she left without a word.

She came back the next night and the next until everyone had assumed that she always worked there.

When Lyla noticed how Biro's secret she didn't tell him about it at first. He would serve the gamblers extra strong wine during a fixed fight. Then when they were sloppily drunk and congratulating one another, Biro would slip a few coins into his pocket and then leave them with the cheap wine to finish off the night. After seeing him do this multiple times, Lyla cornered him one night and said that she wanted in.

Now they were partners in work and crime. Lyla knew it would pay off in the end.

xXx

As she stepped onto Commorte Island, Lyla instantly noticed the feeling of unease in the air. She could smell it; the stench was not unlike fear. The atmosphere was tense; the calm before the storm.

"What d'you reckon's happened?" Biro muttered.

"Not sure. Just keep your head down."

They walked hurriedly to the coliseum that was centered in the middle of the isle. It was all stone and a bit worse for wear; though a bit rough around the edges it was a formidable building with miles of underground stone tunnels and holding pens. The cells they passed were used for animals and sometimes particularly aggressive fighters. As they walked down into the lower levels, all was eerily quiet. Fearsome creatures cowered in corners. Warriors anxiously waited without a word. The air was so tense Lyla felt like her chest was being compressed.

She took a quiet breath to steady herself. Biro even looked uneasy; he who always had a smile on his face was tight lipped and grim-eyed.

Hurried footsteps echoed down the stone hall as one of the younger cell cleaners rushed away from the end of the line. Before he could slip by, Lyla grabbed his arm. "What the fuck's going on?"

The boy avoided her eyes. "The big boss is here. He's got a new shipment."

"I know that dumb arse," Lyla said impatiently. "Why is everyone so on edge?"

The boy just cast a long panicky look toward the end of the hallway and then took off running. His ragged breath was the only sound to be heard.

"Lot of help he was," muttered Biro.

Lyla shrugged and walked towards the end of the hallway. There was a cage at the end of the hall; a huge cage with dirty boxes piled around it and stones on the top to keep the lid on. With no window light to see by, the shadows were even more ominous and the inhabitant of the cage was shrouded in darkness. Biro tried to hold Lyla back as she cautiously crept towards the cage, and the creature inside it, but she shrugged him off. As she finally got close enough to see she realized the creature was massive and fur covered. The beast stiffened and turned around in the cage, scraping the bars as it went. Biro let out a gasp as fierce yellow eyes locked onto Lyla's blue grey ones.

"What the hell is that thing?"

In that moment, eyes locked with one of the wildest creatures in the world, Lyla knew that she was no longer No One. Valar Morghulis, her life's prayer, meant nothing if she was not No One. If she did not continue to forget who she was then it all had been for naught. But this creature, with one look, had sent a crack driving into the wall around her locked away memories. There was no flood, no melt down, no intense recollections that some Faceless Men experienced when faced with parts of their old lives. Only one thing trickled out of the cracked barricade and into the forefront if her mind.

"Nymeria," whispered a quiet, younger voice from inside the recesses of her mind. "Her name is Nymeria."


	4. Chapter 4

Sister.

Nymeria took a deep breath through her nose as she blinked open her eyes. The cage she had stayed in was hard, cold, and surrounded by black. The darkness was no issue for her; she could see fantastically in the dark. Her other senses were heightened as well. From fear, from starvation, from the hopelessness coming from the other stone cages.

But now Nymeria smelled her.

Girl-wolf.

Protector.

Helper.

Friend.

Sister.

Nymeria felt a happy bark crawling up her throat and was about to turn around when...wait.

She could smell the hesitation as the girl-wolf stepped forward. She paused and stiffened. The fear from the big two-legs was assaulting her nose but she ignored it. There was a more pressing problem.

Something smelled wrong.

She smelled wrong.

It was definitely her. No doubt about that. But there was something suppressing the connection between them. Nymeria took another deep breath and her lungs clenched.

Dark, like Old Magic in the Winterlands. Rotting like dead men's eyes after they've been left out in the woods too long. Cold was in her sister like the frozen nights of Winter.

A dark hall with dying souls and sickness all around. A lying waif who taught secrets. A kindly man with a worm for an eye. The man with hair of blood and snow who started girl-wolf on this dark journey.

Death.

Death emanated from her long-lost sister.

Girl-wolf was in this new smell, wrapped up in a cocoon of Death itself. Death's power overwhelmed her. So much so that Nymeria felt surprised that she could still smell girl-wolf.

She turned around and felt a shiver go through her, making her scrape against the bars of her cage. Nymeria's eyes searched for the grey orbs she knew would meet her yellow ones. A shiver ran through her when she could not find them.

A different girl stood where girl-wolf should have. Small, black hair, and the eyes. The eyes weren't right. Nymeria heard the dark boy whisper, "What the hell is that thing?"

Nymeria stood, hopeful, waiting. The girl-wolf stared at her for a moment. Nymeria thought she saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes-like a friend from a wandering pack that returned to visit. As the girl opened her mouth, Nymeria's tail gave an unnoticeable wag in the darkness.

"Not a damn clue," said the girl-wolf as her eyes turned cold. "Let's go see what Millo wants to do with it."

Nymeria's ears went back and her tail drooped as the girl walked away with her big friend. She sat down and waited for the girl-wolf to come back, even though she knew it was a slight hope.

She knew her sister was lost. Not gone though. Not completely.


	5. Chapter 5

There was no way in any hell she was going to jeopardize this mission for a dog.

"Valar Morghulis, Valar Morghulis" No One chanted in her head.

"Nymeria," whispered the young girl inside. "Her name is Nymeria. "

"Shut up," raged Cat of the Canals moodily. "We can't let your stupid memories get in the way of this mission."

"Valar Dohaeris," whispered the memory a man with many faces. "All men must serve. Who do you serve lovely girl?"

Lyla shook her head as she scrubbed one of the hyenas stalls. The damned animal had won the fight against a 3 year old lion cub but died of infection in the night. The Many-Faced God had not been merciful to that creature.

"And he's not being merciful to me now," pouted the young girl who had recognized the direwolf. "He wouldn't have let me see her if he didn't want me to complete this mission."

"Or maybe it's a temptation and you should just stick with the plan you ninny!" Cat of the Canals rolled her eyes.

"I am not a ninny! "

"You're sure acting like one!"

"Valar Dohaeris. Valar Morghulis!" chimed in a man.

"SHUT UP!" Lyla roared throwing her rag and kicking her bucket against the stone wall.

All was quiet in her head but then a cold voice whispered "I don't believe you should be treating my property like that wench."

Lyla turned around and saw Millo and a bald, fat Tyroshi with a purple beard staring at her. Millo looked terrified and the Tyroshi looked at her with frozen fury.

"No m'lord. Sorry m'lord." Lyla looked down like she had been taught to do in the presence of important people. They didn't want to see your impertinence.

"If I ever see you doing anything like that again, I assure you that you will find yourself in one of my shows. Is that clear?"

"Yes m'lord," Lyla said quietly.

The Tyroshi nodded. "Good. Now, girl, there's a creature here that, quite frankly,terrifies the shit out everyone else who works my pits. Have you seen this creature yet?"

"I'm not sure m'lord. Is it a man or a beast?"

The Tyroshi narrowed his eyes. "A beast. A little mouse told me that you were seen walking up to it with almost no fear. Is this true?"

"I deal with a lot of beasts m'lord. Some more terrifying than you."

"You insolent little shit," the Tyroshi growled and backhanded her across the face, sending her spinning onto the floor. Her lip was bleeding as she stood back up.

Millo started, "M'lord I know she meant no harm by it. She's just a stupid street rat she don't know-"

The Tyroshi raised his hand and cut Millo off. "She will be the best for the beast. They will make a good match. The direwolf has a similar attitude problem."

He turned away from Lyla headed down the corridor. "Follow me."

She did as she was bid, following meekly to the place she dreaded, knowing nothing good could come put of going to a direwolf's cage.

As she followed the pair, Lyla did not like the whispers that were going on between Millo and the Tyroshi. From her distance behind them, she only caught snippets.

"...can't trust the bitch..."

"...huge profit..."

"...too young..."

"...spitfires. Both of them."

"...but what if she..."

"That'll be on your head won't it?" The Tyroshi snarled.

"Yes m'lord." Millo bowed slightly looking nervous.

As the trio reached the direwolf's cage, the beast looked at them morosely. Lyla shook her head. It was just a dumb beast, it didn't have facial expressions.

Neither did the merchant as he turned his fat self to face Lyla. "Since you are becoming notorious for your fighting skills outside the pit, you will be putting them to use in the pit. However, Millo claims you're too valuable to waste." He narrowed his frosty eyes at Lyla. " I don't believe him for a second. But chances must be given. You will be training the fighting animals."

Lyla gasped internally. 'Training' was a kind word for it. Trainers beat, starved, humiliated, and sometimes killed the pit animals. Owners said it was to train the beasts to put on a show for the blood-lusty crowd. Most of the trainers were just paid sadists. They made animals angry and terrified; a scared confused animal was even more deadly than an injured one. Lyla had never wanted to be one of those bastards. That's why she got in good with Biro and not a training assistant.

Loving her silence, and believing her to be frightened, the fat man turned and gestured to the beast behind him, his silk robe whispering as it shifted. "Your first assignment will be this wolf-bitch."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains animal cruelty. Like the kind in the commercials that make us all cry on tv. So be aware. Also it was very difficult to write. That's why I wrote it from Nymeria's pov, because I couldn't stand to be in Arya's head as I wrote this

"They promoted you? YOU of all people?" Biro ranted as he paced Lyla's bedroom. "Why the fuck would they do that? You're too scrawny to be strong enough to handle some of those animals."

"Watch it asshole," she glared pulling on her tunic.

"Not a damn clue," Lyla sighed as she laid down on her bed. "But I'm supposed to train the direwolf first. I guess they think it'll kill me and then they'll be done with me and I can't cause anymore problems with the workers."

"So I guess I'm on my own doing the warhorse stalls this week huh?"

Lyla chuckled. "Leave you to think of that while I very well might have my head ripped off."

"Well if you do at least you won't be able to smell me. Gods, I have to bathe at least three times before it makes a dent in the stench."

"You'll be fine you big pussy," Lyla said.

"Says you. Anyway gotta run, there's a girl down on one of the pleasure barges I've been talking to and it's her night off so I'm taking her out."

Lyla propped herself up on her elbows. "You know it's her job to act interested in you right?"

"Yeah but a man can dream right?" Biro shrugged as he headed out the door.

"Guess so..." Lyla pulled the blanket up to her chin. A man can dream, she thought. And a girl can be afraid to do something she wasn't certain of.

xXx

The next day she tried to go about her business as usual. Get up, get dressed, take the ferry to work. Biro was missing-probably sleeping off his hangover.

Lyla sighed. She would have to face this herself.

You are No One, she reminded herself. You feel nothing, know no emotions, know no pain.

As she walked slowly to the direwolf's cage Lyla let herself slip entirely away. No One's eyes glazed over. There were no emotions betrayed. Only the cold face of Death.

Nymeria POV

She smelled girl-wolf before she saw her. This time Death was completely overwhelming her. Nymeria looked up and saw cold-wrong eyes looking back at her. She tensed in fear but didn't let it show in her ears or her tail.

Girl-wolf opened the door of the cage and pointed to the hall that led to the training ring. "Out."

Nymeria'a ears went back against her will. This was not expected. Half-hearted and wary, she took a step out of the cage. When nothing happened, she continued down the hall as girl-wolf had ordered. Into a dark room they went, past half-crazed men and beasts.

At the end of the hall was a dark room that Nymeria cautiously crept inside. She hated the feel of it; there were bones underfoot and slimy darkness everywhere.  
The old wooden door slammed behind her and Nymeria was cast into total darkness. She whimpered and scratched at the door as her eyes adjusted. But before they could completely allow her to see, something hard crashed into the back of her skull, turning it all to darkness once again.

xXx

As Nymeria came out of her daze, she shook her head and whimpered at the pain. Her vision was foggy and before she could even motivate herself to move, something lashed across her skin, causing her to cry out. It felt like nine sharp claws digging into her skin at once. She turned to try and get a glimpse of her attacker, teeth bared, but felt a stab at her other side, this one deeper than the first.  
"You're just an ugly little bitch aren't you?" called out a voice. "Useless without your smell."

"A dumb beast is all," said the same condescending voice from a different side of the room. "Useless for anything but a good fight."

"Couldn't even stay with your mistress." A rock hit Nymeria's face as she tried to get her bearings. "That cunt didn't even want you."

An injury came with each insult.

"No pack." Smack.

"No home." Stab.

"Not even a proper wolf." Slam.

She rose to her feet and growled, despite the deprivation of her senses, trying to catch a glimpse of Death as she circled.

Suddenly, everything stopped. Nymeria dipped low in case of another attack. She bared her teeth and snarled, ready to move, when a young voice called out, "Nymeria?"

The direwolf raised her head in shock. Girl-wolf?

Stepping closer, Nymeria saw a glimpse of steel grey eyes as a little form rushed to hug her. "Nymeria I've missed you so much!"

Nymeria opened her muzzle to bark happily when a rock smashed against her skull.

She fell to the ground and felt her life's blood pour out of her.

"You'll heal up fine you dumb bitch." said Death. Nymeria whimpered as she heard footsteps whispering away. "It only gets worse from here."


	7. Chapter 7

Lyla walked through the lively streets of Braavos that night, wishing desperately for a distraction. Tonight she was so off-put that she even allowed herself to wear her own eyes-her real grey eyes. Those grey eyes looked like a drizzly day. She was the only morose face in a sea of lively bars and pleasure barges. Music blared from every tavern. Drunks roared with laughter and anger as the night wore on. The noise in the city wasn't what was caused her to wince though.

The voices in her head were at it again.

There was nothing she could do to stop it, she reasoned with herself. It had to be done.

Cat of the Canals agreed and patted the girl's shoulder in an act of solidarity. It had to be done. For the sake of the mission.

FUCK THE MISSION! The young girl with slate grey eyes yelled as she fought to get out of her cell that No One had locked her in long ago, during the training with the Kindly Man. You're better than this! Think back to what the bitch king of Westeros did! He had Nymeria's sister killed! If you keep this up you'll be no better than him.

Lyla winced as the faded memory of a red haired woman-child crying "Not Lady! She's good!" came to the forefront of her mind.

He was a little shit, Cat conceded nonchalantly.

Valar Morghulis, whispered No One. The spawn got his and now the Many-Faced God has demanded another life. The mission is to destroy him; an animal cannot get in the way. What needed to be done is done.

Aye, that he did, whispered Cat, looking with mixed emotions as the young girl in the cell began to cry angry tears and yell curses at the lot of them. And his demands are just that. Demands that cannot be ignored. He has demanded it; we obey.

Lyla sighed and kicked a pebble into the canal where she was walking. "He has demanded it-the wanker," she muttered to herself as she leaned on the railing that protected unexpected tourists from falling into the canal.

"Who's demanding what now?" asked a slightly slurred male voice from behind her. Lyla didn't even bother turning around. Everyone in Braavos drank. Westerosi, Tyroshi, Braavosi-it didn't matter. At the end of the week everyone got shit faced drunk. But no one knew how another person would act when drunk so it was best just to ignore people after sunset.

He must be fresh off the boat if he doesn't know that rule yet, Lyla thought to herself.

"Must be a real prick to be making demands of a young girl."

Lyla continued to ignore him.

"I'd beat him bloody for you, if he's bothering you that much."

Lyla snorted, unable to contain herself. This guy beating the shit out of the god who demanded human lives as sacrifice-that's a riot.

"Glad to see you have some sort of sense of humor." Lyla felt him take a few steps closer. "Want to let me see your face m'lady?"

Lyla whirled around, about to insist that she was no lady and to tell the intoxicated man to bugger off. But she stopped and closed her eyes instead. Her old self was brewing too close to the surface and Lyla needed to hold it together.

"No. I don't. Go back to your ale, foreigner. Enjoy the city while it still holds some magic for you."

"They've been telling me Braavos is the city where you can become whoever you want to be. A whore, a merchant, a warrior," the man sighed and leaned up next to her on the railing. She turned her face away from him, really not wanting to be disturbed.

"I just want to be whole again," he half whispered. Lyla rolled her eyes. Great, not only a persistent drunk but a sappy one as well.

"Do you even know what the word means?" He asked to nothingness. "Complete, full, intact. I was intact once. For a moment. She made me complete. The little lady was just a girl but she was the only family I had."

He paused for a moment and then said bitterly, "But I threw it all away. Shattered myself in the process. For some men who promised I could be their brother. And they sold me out!" He pounded down on the railing with his fist. "To a bitch who told me I had a duty to do. A legacy to uphold. 'Ours is the Fury, '" The man snorted and then fell silent again. Just as Lyla thought he was about to leave he continued in a hardened warriors voice

"Well I'm furious now. Furious that they took her from me. And I'll make them pay. The rightful king's last bastard, fighting in a ring, drunk as a skunk and swinging a hammer just like his old man. Won't that be one for the songs?"

Lyla stood quietly as the man took one last swig of his bottle and ambled back into the bar. He paused in the doorway and said, "Don't let what they do shatter you m'lady. It's still your choice."

She tensed up at his last words and finally turned around to retort, to scream at him that it wasn't that simple, that it was not her choice stupid, but as she did so all she could see was the silhouette of another drunk man passed out on the streets of Braavos. Without a second thought she turned and ran back to her apartment as fast as her legs could carry her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So timeline:Chapters 1-7 are consecutive. Chapter 8 takes place about a week down the road. This is a filler chapter but chapter 9 is a climactic event. Enjoy and please review:3

"What d'you mean today? She's not ready!" Millo hastily protested to the relaxed Tyroshi. "She wasn't supposed to be ready for a few more weeks at least! By the Titan, d'you know what this coul-"

"I am perfectly aware of the risks," the purple bearded Tyroshi said. He rested his elbows on the table and folded his fingers together. "But the time is now. That fight needs to happen today. This evening in fact, if my sources are to be believed. Or it will be your body being torn apart in the pits and not hers. Do you understand?"

Millo's face went pale under his tan skin. "Yes m'lord."

"Then get to it," the Tyroshi snapped and leaned back in his chair with wine in hand. When Milo didn't move, the merchant yelled, "NOW!"

Millo jumped and scurried out the door as he muttered, "Aye, ser. Right away, ser."

The Tyroshi allowed himself a small smile. Everything was going exactly as he planned.

xXx

"Oi, girl!"

Lyla looked up from the stack of weapons she was sharpening to see Millo running towards her.

"What is it Millo? Another beast you want me to torture?" she said bitterly turning back to the sword she was sharpening. No matter how much she hated training…..the beast, one of the weapons was to be used on the direwolf later on, so they had to be in pristine condition.

"Watch your mouth girl," Millo grunted as he leaned up against a stone wall and tried to catch his breath. "And no it's a bit more urgent than that, considering the piss poor job you've been doing."

"Piss poor?" Lyla glared at the man sullenly. "The bitch has been giving me nothing but trouble and I send her to her cage every night with more marks than you have teeth. What's wrong with the way I've been training her, eh?"

"I think….. you could…could do better." Millo panted.

"Anyway that ain't the point. One of the former Second Sons didn't show this morning. Must've been too hungover to come in," he spat on the ground. "Lazy sod."

Lyla continued to rub the whetstone against the sword with practiced patience. "So?"

"So, the Tyroshi wants the direwolf to take his place."

The whetstone stopped mid-stroke. "What?"

"She's going to fight in an hour. Apparently you've impressed the purple-bearded bastard with your training." Milo spit. "I think she's still rubbish compared to some of the veterans. She's spirited no doubt about that. But if I were allowed to bet, I'd say the beast wouldn't last more than ten minu…"

The words died in his throat as Lyla grabbed him by the front of his tunic and put the freshly sharpened blade to his throat. "Listen here you piece of shit. That wolf is worth ten of you. You're wasting a good fighter by putting her in the ring tonight. She's loyal and brave and ferocious enough to kill you with one bite. She might die tonight because she's not ready."

Millo whimpered and Lyla could smell the fear pounding in his blood. "But…" she paused to give him a moment of fear. "I guess better her than me, right?"

She let go of the sniveling man's tunic. "So shut the hell up and go tell your master the wolf will be ready for whatever he throws her way."

She sat back down and calmly began to sharpen her sword again.

Millo shook his head and rubbed his throat. He didn't know what the Tyroshi was thinking, tangling with this one. She was dangerous.

He turned to report back to the merchant but a quiet voice, slightly softer than the one who had just been threatening him asked, "Who will she be fighting?"

Millo turned around and saw her eyes were a soft grey. Startled at her change in attitude, he stammered, " A…uh…the…"

"Spit it out man!" Lyla's eyes flashed black and then back to grey again.

"She's fighting that new Westerosi sellsword, the one from King's Landing. He's fresh off the boat that one. They say he calls himself the Bull."


	9. Chapter 9

 

>  The roar of the crowd was deafening against Lyla's ears. The coliseum was filled tonight. A Westerosi from the South against a beast from the North.
> 
> Who could resist such a battle?
> 
> Lyla was in one of the pit entrances with the Northern animal. She had the direwolf chained up with one hand and held a thick whip with the other.
> 
> Her nerves were threadbare. The voices in her head were clamoring for attention once again.
> 
> _…it's not worth the mission…_
> 
> _….a dumb beast….._
> 
> _…..she's your sister! Your protector…._
> 
> _….Dohaeris! Valar Morghulis….._
> 
> _….girl must choose…._
> 
> _...the only one left…._
> 
> _…you chose this path…._
> 
> _…remember the promises you made…_
> 
> "Lyla!" A sharp voice called her out of her reverie.
> 
> "What?"
> 
> Biro looked at her with concern. "It's time for the fight. The announcer will be calling the beast out in a minute." He paused. "Are you going to be ok?"
> 
> "Yeah. Fight. Announcer. Got it," she mumbled. She shook her head and glared at him. "Where have you been dumb arse? This has been a crazy week and I've seen neither hide nor tail of you! What the hell?"
> 
> Biro had the decency to look abashed. "You remember the girl from the pleasure barges?"
> 
> "The one you were hopelessly chasing after," Lyla snorted.
> 
> "Yeah her. We got married."
> 
> "WHAT?"
> 
> "Yeah, she got fired from the barges for theivin' and didn't have anywhere else to go so we eloped. I took some of the money that we had stored away and then me and her stayed at a bathhouse for the last few days," Biro's eyes went kind of dreamy. "It was wonderful."
> 
> "Uhm, gross." Lyla turned around and faced the entrance to the pit so she wouldn't have to think about what exactly was so 'wonderful'. "So why did you come back from honeymooning? Miss the smell of the horse stalls?"
> 
> "No I came to say goodbye."
> 
> "Goodbye?" Lyla turned her face towards him and cocked an eyebrow.
> 
> "Yeah since she got fired, we've got to go elsewhere for money. I don't make enough to support both of us. Plus, I wanna make an honest woman of her and all that," Biro shrugged. "So I came to give you your half of the money before we head out."
> 
> He held a rather large sack of coins out to her, which she took and rather blankly tied onto the belt of her tunic. She was quiet for a moment then whispered, "Oh."
> 
> Biro shifted his feet in the dirt floor uncomfortably. "It's gonna get better you know."
> 
> "Huh?"
> 
> "This," Biro gestured vaguely around him. "It's not permanent. You're not going to be here forever. There's something bigger for you out there, Lyla. You just have to choose it."
> 
> With that, he turned away and walked out of the entrance hall. Lyla stared after him for a moment then turned towards the gate where the beasts and sell swords were released into the pit.
> 
> Biro was her partner, but like he had said- it wasn't permanent. She tugged the beast forwards and earned herself a mild growl in response.
> 
> The wolf had not been as responsive as Millo preferred his animals to be. She wasn't bloodthirsty by any means and it took a lot to provoke her. The beast would either be slaughtered or would do the slaughtering. It was a 50/50 chance.
> 
> Lyla could hear the announcer hollering over the crowd. "….the elusive, bloodthirsty, vengeful fiend from the North of Westeros….the Direwolf!" The gates in front of the pair opened to the sound of thunderous applause. Shouts and catcalls were echoing around the pit. Lyla carefully untied the wolf and gave her a swift flick of the whip just to piss her off. The creature growled ferociously as it was forced into the arena and the crowd went even crazier.
> 
> The she-wolf howled and bared her teeth, the onslaught of sound disorienting and infuriating her. Lyla watched in fascination as the beast became more and more agitated. Then the announcer continued, "And coming to us all the way from King's Landing, I give you, the one and only Bull, ladies and gentlemen, Gendry Waters!"
> 
> Gendry Waters….Waters….Waters….
> 
> The name echoed in her head and all was still as a young man with a bull's head helmet and a war-hammer stepped out into the arena. Lyla's world went in slow motion as the man removed his helmet and raised it in the air for all to see. He smiled at the crowd and raised his helmet in salute to them. As he turned to face her side of the pit her heart stopped.
> 
> **_Thump Thump Thump_ **
> 
> Then her mind exploded.
> 
> "I should be calling you m'lady!"    
> 
> "Fear cuts deeper than swords."
> 
> "She didn't bite anyone, she's good!"
> 
> "Stick 'em with the pointy end."
> 
> "You look different now. Like a proper little girl." "I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns." "Nice, though. A nice oak tree."
> 
> "I wish you were coming with us." "Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle."
> 
> "What do we say to the god of death?" "Not today."
> 
> "…she kept following and finally we had to throw rocks. I hit her twice. She whined and looked at me…"
> 
> She fell against the wall of the pit entrance as the direwolf took one moment to look back into the young woman's eyes. Her slate grey eyes. If the beast noticed the difference it wasn't apparent to the girl. Turning back around, the beast charged and the fight ensued.
> 
> "No!" she screamed as the man swung hard into the wolf's jaw. The creature snarled and then sunk her teeth into the man's right arm. He howled in pain and desperately tried to free himself.
> 
> Without thinking, she ran into the pit to separate the two. The gasps and negative shouts from the crowd didn't even register in her mind as she raced towards the most precious thing in her once forgotten life.
> 
> "Nymeria! NYMERIA STOP!" she howled as she got closer to the center of the pit. "Nymeria!"
> 
> Upon hearing her mistress' true voice, Nymeria released her hold on her opponent's arm and swung her head around, desperately trying to locate the sound.
> 
> When the wolf saw who it was, who it truly was (for she smelt neither Death nor No One), she bounded towards the young woman, who threw her arms around the direwolf's neck.
> 
> "I've missed you so much girl," she murmured into the soft grey fur of her companion.
> 
> "What the bloody hell is this?" roared the man, who was holding onto his wounded arm. Nymeria's teeth must've hit bone because he was gushing blood like a stuck pig. 
> 
> "None of your damn business, stupid!" she hissed as she marched up to him and poked him in the chest. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"
> 
> "Who the hell are you? And what the fuck is going on here?" Nymeria ears went back as she dipped down into a defensive stance at his tone. She growled as her mistress continued, "You don't recognize me do you, you stupid bull? A bit different from a scared girl you left behind aren't I?"
> 
> "Sorry lady but do I know you? You must be off your rocker!" The Bull said as the guards began rushing the pit to remove the intrusion. The crowd was beginning to get antsy as well.
> 
> "Oh you know me, Gendry Waters, you stupid, stupid bull" she said as she climbed up onto Nymeria's back. "I've been Horseface, Arry, Weasel, Cat of the Canals, No One and Death. But no more." She nudged Nymeria forward and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I am Arya Stark, of Winterfell and you will never leave me again."
> 
> With that she slammed the butt of her whip into his head and he crumpled to the ground.
> 
> Unconscious or dead, Arya didn't stop to find out. Urging Nymeria forward, Arya leaned down to snatch a sword off of a terrified young guard.
> 
> As the guards closed in, Nymeria took the lead and jumped into the stands. Ladies and lords alike screamed and ran for their lives. The reunited duo raced out of the coliseum and out of sight. For years to come, the city of Braavos would tell the tale of the scorned North woman and her direwolf, who wreaked havoc on the fighting pits in order to get her revenge on a lover who scorned her. A terrifying beauty, they would call her; the She-Wolf of the North.


	10. Chapter 10

To the dock workers, she looked like any other beggar girl running on the streets in the midday sun. The heat made the fish and vegetables stink to high heavens, but it was no matter. Arya crept onto an unloading dock on the northern side of Braavos, old and new boxes stuffed with treasures from all over the world surrounding her as she silently swept through the labyrinth they created.

As she approached her destination, she heard a low growl.

"It's only me girl," whispered Arya to her newly remembered companion.

Nymeria's ears perked up as she heard her wolf-sister's voice. The fearsome northern dire-wolf who attacked Gendry in the pits was gone; in her place was a happy, friendly, and protective friend. Arya had never been happier to have someone in her life than right now. Despite her assault of memories, and the disappearance of No One from her mind and heart, she had been able to retain her ability to change her face. But now she would never be completely invisible again. Nor could she sense the life of other beings around her as acutely as she used to. Being the embodiment of Death meant that No One could sense everything that made one living. Heartbeats, breaths, unnoticeable tics; all were noticeable to the One who was never noticed.

The Red God was certainly not as harsh as he could have been, all things considered. Arya knew that everything given to her came with a price. After all, Valar Dohaeris . At the time of her recollection, she had been in the midst of a mission. The description of an unnamed man had been whispered in desperation to the Red God by a dying sorcerer. The mission had been given to No One, who gladly accepted her challenge as a chance to give glory to her god.

But now I am no longer No One, she thought to herself as she gave Nymeria some meat she had stolen from the market. I am Arya, of House Stark of Northern Westeros. Can I complete the mission the Red God has given No One?

As if sensing her inner turmoil, Nymeria came and lay down beside her. She placed her giant head on Arya's lap as the girl sat resting against one of the wooden crates. Arya stroked her fur tentatively. A part of her was disbelieving of her circumstances; somehow she thought that this was all another test and that she would wake up in the House of Black and White, being reprimanded for not choosing to serve above all else, memories or no memories.

If nothing else, Arya thought as she tore into a loaf of bread with one hand and stroked Nymeria with the other. I will complete this last mission as repayment for my memories. But then I will take my life back. No reason I can't be Arya Stark again.

With a sigh, Arya began to plan her way back into the one place she wanted to avoid in Braavos: the living quarters of a certain purple-bearded Tyroshi.

xXx

All was dark on the elegant side of town. Most of the party goers were home by now or sleeping off the wine in a dark alleyway. All the people were slumbering, too far gone into the world of sleep to see an athletic girl slip silently through the streets.

Arya came to the building she had been watching for a few months. All entrances to the pit-master's quarters were guarded at all times by sets of four guards apiece. The stone walls around the building were high, but not too high that she couldn't scale them. Bran was not the only Stark who inherited a gift for climbing. On one of her 'drunken' nightly wanderings, which were covers for her scouting trips, she noticed the Tyroshi in his writing room. It was accessible to her from the outside, certainly. There was the stone wall surrounding the entire plot of land. This could be easily accessed and would only take a minute to scale. From there, she would have to jump- a flying leap onto the terrace that led to the writing room. The jump itself was not undoable.

Escaping the building once the deed was done was another matter entirely.

Arya had mastered Syrio's lessons. Swift as a deer; quiet as a shadow; fear cuts deeper than swords. But running away from a fight had never been her strong suit. Surely once the servants found their master dead, she would be the one they'd be looking for. She could change her face, but once there was a murder to behold everyone was a suspect. She'd have to escape quickly, and without provoking suspicion.

She hid in a doorway, her hair hiding her face, as the guards circled on their rounds. Each loop took the sentries to the count of ninety. It wasn't much time to scale the wall and silently enter the proverbial labyrinth, but she would have to do it.

Taking a deep breath as the guards went out of sight around the corner, Arya raced to the stone wall and leaped onto it.

Twenty…twenty-one…

She found footholds as quickly as she could and immediately scaled the wall like the Clambering as fast as she could, as she almost reached the top Arya slipped and released one of her handholds. The rock disintegrated under her grasp.

Forty-three…forty-four….forty-five…

She latched onto a barely visible handhold and continued climbing, trying to make up for those precious lost seconds.

Sixty-nine…seventy…

Breathing heavily, Arya pulled herself onto the narrow top of the wall and regained her balance as best she could. No candles to be seen. No servants to be heard.

Seventy-eight….seventy-nine…

Taking a deep breath, willing herself to be silent, Arya leapt forward and hurled herself over the balcony, neatly rolling behind a table and crouching down as low as she could.

…Eighty-eight…

Close enough, she thought to herself as she looked around the room.

Nothing extraordinary. The wooden table she was hiding behind was used for guests. A large elaborate writing desk was to her left, covered with letters and quills. To her right was the door; a wooden one with no real locks, she noted. It was about ten paces away. An easy getaway.

Directly in front of her, the man himself. Sleeping soundly in an exquisite mahogany bed with silken bedcovers, he breathed peacefully as his doom emerged from her hiding place. She crept towards the sleeping man, her hands finding the silk ribbon she had used as an unnecessary belt. She wrapped it securely around both hands and continued soundlessly to the head of the bed. Arya looked once more at the sleeping form; he shifted and rolled onto his side with his back facing her.

She took another breath and as she reached forward, whispered, "Valar Morghulis."

Suddenly an arm wrapped around her neck and yanked her away from her target. She wanted to scream but her training kicked in. She elbowed her attacker in the stomach, which sent him reeling backwards with a grunt. She tried to step down on his foot but he was too big to escape, even with her speed. He swung at her, but she dodged him easily. She tried to kick him in the shins, but he grabbed her wrist and spun her around.

Impossible, she thought as he reached under both of her armpits and locked his hands behind her head. No living person had ever caught a Faceless Man.

I guess that's not me anymore though, Arya thought as she tried to assess the situation and simultaneously struggle out of the man's iron grip. Even when she tried to kick backwards he simply grunted.

He's holding me but not hurting me, she realized. Why?

"Hello Arya Stark," said a calm voice from near the bed. "It's been a long time, my dear."

Arya said nothing as the Tyroshi lit a candle and placed it on the writing desk. It was a wonder no letters caught on fire.

"I am so delighted you decided to complete your mission. I was beginning to become concerned that you wouldn't come to kill me. There were others however…." The Tyroshi paused delicately. "Who believed you would follow through. Stark honor and all that." He waved his hand as if it were no matter at all.

"Why do you think I am this Stark girl?" Arya protested, still attempting to wiggle out of her captor's clutch. "I'm no one."

"Ah but you aren't, my dear," the Tyroshi stepped forward. "No more than I am a Tyroshi."

"Who are you then?" challenged Arya in as menacing as a voice as she could muster.

"Don't you recognize me little one?" the mystery man looked affronted. "Surely with your memories returned to you, I am no longer only a nameless sacrifice to your god?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The man sighed melodramatically and said to Arya's captor, "Really, after all this time I thought she'd be smarter than this Gendry."

GENDRY?

"She is m'lord. She can be a little weasel sometimes but I assure you, she's vital to the plan," Gendry's deep voice vibrated from his chest through her back as he spoke. That bull-headed bastard was in on this?

"What plan?" Arya spat out. "What're you gonna do with me? Kill me? Give me to Joffery as a named traitor to the crown? Well you can tell that little shit I'll rip his throat out before he tries to put dishonor…"

"The vicious cretin is dead," Gendry spat as he spoke of the vicious king. "Poisoned at his own wedding. Stannis sits on the throne."

"At least I can cross him off my list now," Arya growled as she thought of the bastard.

"There it is. The Stark honor," the Tyroshi beamed. "He shook his head in a sorrowful manner. "A pity it didn't do Robb or Catelyn any good but…"

"Shut the hell up about my family!" Arya ripped out of Gendry's hold and punched the Tyroshi square in the nose. Gendry put her in a full bear hug as the blood gushed from the man's nose and his beard….his beard fell off?

The purple beard fluttered to the ground as the man turned and looked back at the wolf-girl patiently, letting the blood drip down his face. Arya stared at him in shock.

"As hard as this may be to believe, Arya, my goal is not to harm you, but to bring you home," his intensely serious gaze locked onto her unsure one as the candle light reflected on his bald head. The blood on his face looked black as he spoke.

"For the good of the realm, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell," he paused as if deeply considering something. "The castle has been without its masters for far too long, I fear." He shook his head and his gaze turned steely. "You will help us reclaim Winterfell. There is a pretender there claiming to be Arya Stark, who has married the bastard of the Dreadfort."

"I haven't married anyone!" Arya protested.

"My dear, do you think I would have crossed the Narrow Sea to find you if I had thought you had married him?"

Arya was silent. Then she said, "Alright, say I'll go back with you. You can't make me rule!"

"Who said anything about you?" asked the man bemusedly. "We will sail tomorrow to Westeros, from there we will reclaim your home. For now, I will say good night. Gendry will be standing guard at your quarters, so don't even think about trying to escape." He turned his back on the couple and headed towards the candle to blow it out. Gendry tugged Arya towards the door, when she suddenly questioned:

"Why should I help you, Varys?"

The Master of Whispers turned back to look at her. "It's not me you're helping Arya Stark. It's your family."

"My family is all dead."

"Two still live. You and another. If you want any chance for Westeros, and your kin, to survive the coming war then you must come back with us tomorrow."

"And if I don't?"

"Oh I think you will, my dear," smirked Varys.

"And why is that?"

"We have Nymeria."


	11. Chapter 11

Arya tried to escape on three different occasions that night. Every time Gendry would drift off into the world of sleep, she'd try to sneak out the door or climb out of the barred window. It did not work because Gendry would always wake up just as she was about to make it out of the room. While he did manage to restain her each time, it did not mean that she was about to go down without a fight. He had scratches down his face, and a lump throbbing on his head. She called him every name in the book, including a few Braavosi terms he had never heard before. As dawn broke, Arya, grumbling but exhausted, was led by Gendry to one of the lesser known ports. Varys was waiting by the loading dock as boxes and luggage were loaded onto a rather small vessel.

"Lady Stark, I see you've had an eventful evening," Varys beamed at her, his hands tucked away in the folds of his robes. "Excellent, very excellent. All is going to plan. Gendry, have you explained the particulars of our plan to Arya?"

"Not yet m'lord, she's been keeping me busy all night."

"Well it's at least a week's trip across the Narrow Sea, so you shall have plenty of time to explain it to her. Also, you will be sharing quarters in the lower levels, away from the sailors. We cannot have you running off now can we Lady Stark?"

Arya attempted to glare reproachfully at him, but had a sneaking suspicion she looked like a sleepy toddler trying to avoid naptime. "I suppose we can't, Lord Varys."

Varys smiled a wry smile, "As certain as I am of your sincerity at the moment my dear, your reckless nature must be taken into account. Just to assure that you will not attempt any such escape once we reach Westerosi shores, Nymeria will remain in my quarters and in my care until after we have placed a Stark in Winterfell." He clapped his hands together like a small child. "Once that goal is complete, you are free to receive your direwolf and keep her wherever you like!"

"You cannot keep a direwolf, my lord. They are of the North," Arya responded with a venomously sweet smile on her face. "They cannot be tamed, broken, or kept. All anyone can do is offer loyalty and friendship and hope the beast chooses to give them in return."

"Of course, my lady, of course." Varys bowed his bald head towards her and gestured one soft hand to the boat. "Shall we proceed? Gendry, would you be so kind as to escort the lady?"

Gendry offered Arya his arm, but she snorted at his attempted gallantry and stormed onto the ship by herself. Gendry sighed and began to follow her, arm dropping to his side.

"You'll have your hands full with her, Gendry. She's a stubborn young wolf," warned Varys.

"I know m'lord," Gendry replied as he saw Arya walking determinedly around the deck of the ship, inspecting every inch of it. "But I wouldn't have come all this way if she was anything else."

xXx

Gendry walked into their quarters where Arya was setting up her blankets. Some of the crew had brought down some food and some sleeping supplies. It was dark and their quarters, and a bit cramped for two people, but at least it was dry. Some of the crew had to sleep on deck and Gendry had overheard them saying that there wouldn't be good weather until they reached Westeros. All in all, Gendry was grateful to be dry. But it didn't mean that the week in close quarters with Arya was going to be easy.

"So, do you know what's happened in Westeros since you've been gone?" Gendry asked nonchalantly, trying to get Arya's attention.

She didn't answer him and kept going about setting up her area.

"It's been quite the shithole ever since you left."

More silence.

"Everyone's fighting and lying and scheming have turned the Seven Kingdoms into a crazy mess. The War of Five Kings has ruined our country. Those lords and ladies and kings and queens don't know what they're doing." Gendry shrugged and went to set up his blanket as well. "Varys says it's all for the best but…"

"You believe everything Varys says do you?" Arya turned and glared at him heatedly.

Finally, a reaction, though Gendry.

"Not everything. But he's been right on target so far."

"That's because he's the Master of Whisperers. He knows everything, but only gives you the information you need to be a pawn in his chess set. When he's done, he'll dispose of you, because you're just a low-born bastard who suits his current needs," Arya spat at him.

"He got me to you though," Gendry said quietly, trying not to show how Arya's petty name calling still stung after all this time. "And I'm not as low-born as you think."

"Master of Secrets tell you who your daddy is too?" Arya mockingly asked. "Think helping one of the major politicos of Westeros is gonna get you a happy family reunion in the end?"

Gendry stood up to his full height of almost six foot eight and went chest to chest with Arya, who looked like a child compared to him. "My mother is dead, m'lady, and my father with her. I'm not gonna get a 'happy family reunion' out of this, but I'm gonna try and get you yours."

"Who says I wanted one in the first place, stupid?" Arya questioned back. "I was perfectly happy in Braavos."

"One, your family needs you Arya, or what's left of it anyway." She opened her mouth to argue but he spoke over her. "And, no you weren't happy. Not in Braavos or anywhere else in the Free Cities. You weren't in Braavos. No One was in Braavos, Arya. They explained it to me. The Faceless Men take all that you are and tear it away. Push it so far back into your mind that it's as if you never existed. Arya was gone," Gendry said in a low voice. "I just wanted to bring her back."

Arya looked up at him with her piercing grey eyes. She stared him straight in the face for a moment, reading his body language as best she could.

"You've changed," she whispered soberly.

"For the better I hope," Gendry tried to crack a smile, but Arya's solemn face kept it from growing too large.

Silence crackled between them, many unspoken questions charging the air like electricity.

"You may have come all this way to find me, but there is still a lot you have to learn about who I am, Gendry," Arya said quietly, dropping her gaze as she went over to her corner of the room. "A lot to learn, indeed."


	12. Chapter 12

Late in the night, Nymeria heard imperceptible footsteps creaking across the floor. Her head lifted and she opened her large eyes to see girl-wolf sneaking into the room. Nymeria sensed that the girl didn't want to be seen or heard so she stayed as still as possible trying to keep her tail from wagging.

As girl-wolf reached the cage, Nymeria moved her head slightly forward and girl-wolf rubbed her between the ears.

"Hey girl," Arya whispered as she came as close as she could through the cage. "They must be treating you alright in here, judging by that pile of bones in the corner."

Nymeria stuck her tongue out and nuzzled against Arya's hand happily.

"I wish we could get out of here girl, but I don't think it's possible right now," she blew some air out of her mouth in a exasperated sigh. "If it's not one thing it's the next. Varys won't let us leave till I help him and he's too dangerous to kill now that he knows who I am. I think the Red God gave Arya a second chance…"

She trailed off and thought of Gendry, giving her a second chance at Arya's life before she even knew she needed it. Coming halfway around the world to find a girl he didn't know was still alive. He was right, she had not been happy in Braavos. Lyla was, Cat was, No One was….but Arya…Arya did not have the slightest clue what to think about Braavos, the Faceless Men, or the return of the Bull.

"Oh girl, I wish it had just been you and me who escaped without Varys. Or Gendry. I knew him when we were children… when he was just Gendry and I was just Arya. Both of us just trying to survive the war. But we have both become different people since then…."

With a saddening realization she said softly, "I don't know this man at all."

Nymeria cocked her head to the side as Arya heard a slight creak by the doorway. She whirled around, drawing Needle from the holster on her hip. "Who's there?"

xXx

Gendry knew Arya would try to find Nymeria in the night. He also knew that Varys was not keeping the direwolf in his quarters like he said he would. Varys was living near the captain's quarters, in the lap of luxury; he always did, Gendry had noticed. The Master of Whispers paid his little birds well, but avoided his own poverty at all costs. Even when undercover, he had to be at the top of the social ladder. That taken into consideration, Gendry figured that by the captain's side would be right where Varys wanted to be; unfortunately it was also too close to the crew for Nymeria to stay there.

On Varys' orders, Gendry had bribed some of the braver crew members to steal Nymeria away and stow her in cage located in an abandoned pantry near the kitchens. She had nearly ripped one sailor's hand off.

When he heard Arya getting up in the middle of the night, he knew it wasn't because she had to use the chamber pot. He waited a few minutes then headed straight to the abandoned pantry. Hearing her whisper to the dire-wolf assured him that his guess had been right.

"…he was just Gendry and I was just Arya. Both of us just trying to survive the war. But we have both become different people since then…."

He swallowed the lump in his throat as she paused for a moment, and with a hint of sadness in her voice said, "I don't know this man at all."

Gendry leaned his head into the doorway to get a better picture of what was going on, when his right foot stepped onto a creaky floorboard. He heard Arya whirl around, the sound of metal drawing from a sheath warning him to be alert. "Who's there?"

Silently cursing himself, he stepped out into the open with his hands slightly raised. "Just me m'lady. No one important."

"What're you doing here?" she questioned, not lowering her sword. "And do not call me m'lady."

"I'm supposed to be making sure you're not trying to escape. Although it'd be kind of stupid of you to try and escape in the middle of the sea."

"Why would I do that? I'm not stupid."

"Never said you were," Gendry replied, going straight towards the cage. "Hullo, girl." He scratched Nymeria behind the ears and the dire-wolf gave a small tail wag.

"How did you do that?" Arya asked with widened eyes.

"Do what?"

"She doesn't ever let anyone but me touch he. Ever."

"Oh, that." Gendry grinned and pulled out a scrap of red meat from his tunic pocket. "Who d'you thinks been giving her all these treats?"

"You're trying to tame my wolf? That's pretty presumptuous of you."

"She is of the North," Gendry said softly as Nymeria ate the meat daintily out of his palm. "She cannot be tamed, broken, or kept." He turned and looked Arya right in the eyes. Her steel grey eyes. "All I can do is offer friendship and loyalty…" He raised a hand and tucked a piece of hair gently behind her ear. "…and hope she chooses to give them in return."

There had been many times in her life when Arya couldn't breathe. When Jon held her under the pool in the godswood for too long. When she was laughing as Sansa got fish guts all over her when they visited Riverrun as children. When she had to chase Nymeria away after Micah was killed. When the Lannisters chopped off her father's head. When she heard the screams of terror the first night in Harrenhal.

But this was something entirely new.

The air was charged again, but in a way she had never experienced before. Her heart was racing. Her palms were sweaty. She could not look away from Gendry's deep blue eyes even though she desperately wanted to.

Gendry looked at her and knew who she was in that moment. Arya. Maybe one he didn't know as much about. Maybe she was more grown up, not the little girl he once tried so hard to protect. Maybe a harder person, one a little less compassionate than she was before. Maybe she had been a murderer. Maybe she was frightened of the future, just as he was. But she was still Arya-just Arya. HIS Arya.

"M'lady…"

As soon as he spoke he wished he hadn't, for she ran out of the room and down the hall as fast as her legs would carry her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major spoilers this chapter

Gendry didn't know what to do. He leaned over the railing and thought about the recent events of his miserable life. It was day five on the ship and it was making him stir crazy. Green-sickness in the mornings, Arya ignoring him all day, and the crew whispering behind his back was enough to make anyone crazy- it didn't help that Gendry had never been the most even-tempered of men.

He got in a fight with one of the sailors on his third night. Gendry was in the mess hall nursing a pint of ale and beating himself up about being too forward with Arya, when some idiot had decided to run his mouth. The drunken fool had made some crude comments about Arya and Gendry could not stand it. He shouted at the man to shut his trap.

"Whatchoo say, stranger?" The sailor said narrowing his red-rimmed eyes.

Gendry stood up and went chest to chest with the man and replied, "I said, shut up about the lady."

"Don't look like a girl to me. She looksh like a right shhhhhhlut, walking round wearing breeches like a man. But what I wouldn't give to get into those…"

Gendry knocked him out with a swift right hook and he had not heard a word about Arya from any of the crew members since.

Arya had been staying away from him since their second night on the ship. Though they shared the same sleeping quarters, she had not spoken a word to him. He could not blame her no matter how hard he tried to blame her stubborn wolf temper. How could she even begin to think of him the way he thought of her? No matter what the eunuch told him, he still had a very hard time believing he was a royal bastard. All his life he'd never been good enough and how could he think she'd think any different?

Because she's Arya, a voice whispered inside him. It's never mattered to her who your parents were.

Gendry just wanted her back. His Arya, his Arry, his Weasel; his friend. Even if she could not return his feelings, he'd give anything to be by her side. He had come half way across the world for her; how could she not see it? Not even give him the time of day?

Frustrated, he punched the railing of the ship and accidentally splitered it. "Gods damn it," he muttered.

"That'll be coming out of your pay Gendry."

Gendry looked around, embarrassed that Varys had seen him lose his temper. "Yes, m'lord. Sorry, m'lord."

"No matter. It's only wood," Varys waved his hand in the air, brushing away the problem as if it was an irksome fly. "We have more pressing matters at hand."

"What would those be m'lord?"

"It seems that Lady Arya still remains in the dark in matters concerning her role in the rescue of Winterfell. Frankly, I'm disappointed Gendry; I thought you would have helped her prepare by now."

"Shouldn't we wait till we're in Westeros m'lord?" Gendry protested weakly. He had no doubt that the Spider knew that he and Arya had not been speaking, but he had no desire to seek Arya out after what happened the other night. "Give her some time to reacquaint herself with her homeland again?"

"If we do not act now, she will not have a home to go back to," Varys said simply. "Come with me."

Gendry obediently followed him, convinced that this would not end well.

xXx

Arya had been summoned to Varys' chambers by a nervous little cabin boy who could not have been more than twelve. She sat at the table, tapping her fingers impatiently and waiting for the Spider to arrive. It was overflowing with food, but she had not touched a bit of it. She still did not trust him. Since her first day here, she had spent most of her time exploring the ship and all its hide-away spots, trying to devise a plan of escape. It was a lot easier to move about on a small ship said when she changed her face to look like one of the cabin boys or another passenger. She had done it a few times, if only to get a better view of the ship without arousing suspicion.

Thus far, she had come up with nothing. As she did not know what Varys had in mind for her, she needed to be prepared for anything-including the possibility that this was an elaborate trap devised by someone who wanted her as a hostage. She did find that a bit unlikely, however, considering that Gendry had also come to find her.

Gendry. She sighed and thought about the boy turned man. He was good in a fight, if the rumors about his outburst on the third night out at sea were true. Sailors loved to gossip as much as kitchen maids and it was easy to get information out of them if you knew where to listen. Gendry had punched a man for talking badly about her. She couldn't imagine it, anyone finding Arya Horseface attractive. But the creepy sailor did and a few others as well, if the talk she overheard in the mess hall was anything to go by. She didn't know what to do.

Arya felt a rush of salt air on her neck that signaled the door opening to the dock. In the doorway she heard two sets of footsteps, one slightly heavier than the other. Turning around in her chair, she saw Varys and Gendry step into the room.

"Ah, Lady Stark," Varys beamed, giving a slight bow of his head. "So pleased that you could join us my dear."

"As if there is anything else I would rather be doing, Lord Varys," Arya rolled her eyes and ignored Gendry's piercing stare. "To what do I owe the pleasure of being summoned like a servant?"

"Shall we not sit and take refreshment first?" Varys gestured to the table.

Arya crossed her arms and gave him a pointed glare.

"Well, to business then," Varys sat down and gestured for Gendry to do the same. Gendry sat awkwardly in the chair next to Arya with Varys facing the both of them.

"Arya, do you know why I came halfway across the world to find you?"

Arya was taken aback by Varys' question, even though she had just been considering possible motives. "Because there is an imposter?"

"Partially because there is an imposter," Varys nodded. "I have other reasons as well. You know of course, that as Master of Whispers I do what I do for the good of Westeros?"

Arya hesitantly nodded.

"Then understand what I say to you now, for I will speak plainly. Without a Stark in Winterfell, Westeros will surely fall. The sense of justice in our country has been depleted and there needs to be a balance restored. Has Gendry told you who now sits on the Iron Throne since Joffery's demise?"

Arya glanced at Gendry, who was staring intensely at the floor. "He has not, my lord."

"Stannis Baratheon now rules Westeros. It was discovered that all of Cersei's children were not Robert Baratheon's, but her brother Jamie's.

After Joffery's death, Stannis stormed King's Landing and ordered Cersei's death for the crime of incest. He allowed Tommen and Myrcella to be taken to Casterly Rock with their Uncle Kevan, as the children did nothing wrong."

"But Stannis has not rid the country of all its evils. The Bastard of the Dreadfort still holds Winterfell alongside a woman who is pretending to be you." Here the eunuch paused. "Ramsay Bolton may be the most disgusting creature to ever walk the planet besides Walder Frey. He holds no value in life, of his wife or his patrons. Only in pain and torture does he find joy."

"There is a reason the sigil of the Boltons is a flayed man," Gendry interjected bitterly. "They're a sick, twisted lot."

"I could not have said it better myself, Gendry," Varys agreed. "He needs to be….removed from Winterfell as quickly as possible. Stannis, however, disagrees. The King might have his faults but he is a lawful man; he believes the Bastard has the right to Winterfell because the boy has married 'Arya Stark' and as the only living Stark…"

"The claim to Winterfell is hers," Arya finished in a whisper.

Varys nodded and waited for Arya to process this new information. After a moment, her eyes widened and she looked between the two of men in front of her in rapid succession.

"You want me to kill him. That's why you discovered me and kidnapped me, so I could do your dirty work for you!"

"Think it through, my dear. If we had the Bastard and the pretender disposed of by any other assassin, the charge against us would be murder, despite the fact that the Bastard would be deserving of his death; we would both be done for. But if we could prove that the pretender was not in fact Arya Stark, then we could restore Winterfell and its heir in one fell swoop, then the people would rejoice to have their Lady back once more."

"I'm no lady!" Arya protested. "I wasn't meant to rule, I was never any good at that needlework and courtesies and shit!"

"We can tell," Gendry muttered under his breath.

"Shut up you stupid bull! You don't know anything!"

Varys watched bemusedly before not unkindly injecting, "Arya, you would not have to rule Winterfell."

"Who else would do it?" Arya shot back. "You said their 'Lady' back."

Varys again waited for the information to dawn on her and was rewarded when the knowledge crept over her face.

"Sansa. Sansa's alive."

"Yes, my dear. Your sister is alive and safe. She is being guarded most carefully, she assures me. I have to admit, I cannot discover her whereabouts, even with all my little birds hunting for her. But she has agreed to take over care of Winterfell if we can prove you are alive. After you have done your part, she will join us at Winterfell from wherever she is at the moment," Varys concluded.

"How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"You don't," Gendry spoke clearly for the first time since the meeting began. "You're just going to have to trust us."

Grey eyes locked onto blue ones and their owners stared intensely at one another. Varys suddenly was overwhelmed by a flashback of Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark looking at each other in just the same manner after one of their many quarrels. He hoped that the two young people in front of him would find a happier path than their predecessors.

Arya eventually turned away from Gendry and looked to Varys.

"So it's simple then. We kill the Bastard."


	14. Chapter 14

"What are you doing?"

Arya showed no sign of surprise as Gendry, who had been leaning onto the door way to their quarters, spoke suddenly. "Preparing for the trip to Winterfell. What does it look like I'm doing?" she asked snarkily.

"Preparing enough weapons to equip a small army. Why do you need that many weapons?"

"In case of emergency," Arya responded. She had all kinds of daggers, poisons, and ropes displayed in front of her. Most had been pilfered from the crew on her daily wanderings, some she had brought with her from Braavos. Not all of which were necessary, but she had to choose carefully how No One….how she…would kill the man who stole her family home.

"I thought the Faceless Men could 'take care of a problem' with only their little fingers," Gendry half-jokingly said.

"No, that's a rumor," Arya smiled to herself. "We only need our thumbs."

"There's no way that's true," Gendry started to laugh until Arya sprung up at him and pushed her thumb against the artery on his neck.

Her eyes went black and she quietly asked, "Would you like to find out?"

Gendry stared at her in horror as she solemnly turned back to her weapons and began humming to herself.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" Arya looked up from her work, grey eyes clear once again.

"Your eyes…."

Arya quirked an eyebrow. "What about them?"

Gendry shook his head to clear it. Hesitantly, he took a step into the room. "Arya?"

"What?" she snapped. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

He knelt down on the wooden floorboards next to her, looked at all the murderous instruments lying next to them, and looked back at her.

"What happened to you?"

The room went silent. Gendry could hear his own heart beating as Arya knelt in front of her arsenal as still as….as a corpse. "How do you mean?"

Gendry hesitated, but when he opened his mouth all the pent up questions came pouring out. "What happened to you over there? What did they do to you? What made you go to Braavos in the first place?" He paused and asked a bit more softly, "What made you leave Westeros? What made you leave me?"

"What made me…" Arya stood up and shoved him to the floor. She trembled as she shouted at him. "YOU! You did you arrogant stupid bull! You left me! You joined that thrice-damned Brotherhood without a second thought as to what would happen to me!"

"That's not true! I…"

"Bullshit!" Arya raged as she walked away from him and started pacing. "Bullshit and you know it! You were the only family I had left. No one else wanted me! My family was dead or dying. I would have been dead if I didn't have you and then…" She swallowed to relieve the lump in her throat. "And then… you left. You decided I couldn't be your family anymore or ever or whatever. That wasn't your choice to make."

Staring into the distance she continued, "I decided to go to Braavos because a friend told me I had more courage than sense. I was brave enough to get revenge but I didn't have the skills or the patience. I had to find a way to learn what I needed to learn, to escape it all and get revenge on the people who had destroyed my life. I went to Braavos." She paused for breath and then whispered, "You want to know what happened to me over there?"

She picked up one of the bottles. "I used this to kill an abusive husband. His wife asked the Red God for safety and I delivered it."

Arya smashed the bottle on the ground and grabbed a dagger. "I killed a brother who had raped his sister with this dagger. Sliced him open from throat to cock. "

She picked up another bottle. "The Red God was offered the name of a baby, a bastard who threatened the standing of one of the most powereful men in Lorath. Dead by his mother's milk."

Her words shocked Gendry as he heard them. Shocked, but not scared. He knew what she had done, but to hear the words escape from her own mouth, it was more than he could handle. She threw the dagger at Gendry's head and it hit the wood beside his ear. "These ropes were used to strangle an alcoholic. His own son, a boy no more than eight, came and begged the Red God to take his father because he wanted his little sister to be able to have money for something to eat."

Arya lifted off her tunic and was left in only her smallclothes and breeches. Gendry was taken aback that she would reveal herself in such a way, especially while she was so emotional, but then started when he saw the point she was trying to make.

Her arms, neck, and torso were littered with scars. Some were new, some were old, but it seemed that there was not a part of her body that had not been attacked.

"Arya…."

"I did horrible things Gendry. Some people almost got the best of me. I could disguise it while I was No One but now I wear them as a sign of repentance because these represent the people I was not supposed to kill."

"I have seen the best of humanity and the worst of it. I set out on a journey for justice and then became the evil I sought to destroy. All sorts of rich men, beggars, courtesans and peasants alike, all of them die in the end. I am the one who brought them to Death's door and shoved them through. Hell, some of them deserved it but it was still me who murdered them. Maybe with a different face and name, but they are dead because of me." Gendry watched as Arya tried to control her breathing. "And I lost myself over there. Arya has no idea what to do with No One's history."

"Arya…it wasn't you." Gendry protested weakly.

"It was though! Now I have to do it again! The worst part is, I don't even feel bad. It is what I was meant to be." She paused and her eyes became steely. "I was born to be a killer."

Gendry stood up and walked over to her. He was amazed that despite all she had been through, she was still so small. There was so much pain and anger in such a small package. Not delicate by any means, but small. She was strong to keep going through all the horrors she had encountered but he could tell that her hardened heart was wearing away, like a stone being smoothed by the steady swell of the ocean. The bravado about being born to be a killer was just like when she had insistently told him she was a boy; not that he believed that for a second. Neither did he believe her now.

He picked her up under her armpits and shoved her against the wall so she was at his eye level, desperate to have her full attention. For once in her life, she did not struggle at all which frightened him more than he cared to admit.

"Listen to me now, m'lady, and listen close. You might have chosen that life, the life of a Faceless Man but that's not who you are. No listen to me," he cut her off as she opened her mouth to object. "You chose to be a Faceless Man, but do not look me in the eyes and tell me that the Arya I know was not in there somewhere. The girl who got us out of Harrenhal by sheer stubborn stupidity. The girl who called out the Hound on being a child killer. The girl who was desperate to find her brothers."

Gendry closed his eyes and tried to steady his voice, "Don't tell me that the girl, who offered to be my family when I had none, was not inside No One somewhere. Don't tell me that she's gone now when I've traveled half a world to find her."

All too common silence fell between them but this time it was sorrowful and not furious. Gendry had no desire to look into those grey eyes and see his worst fears realized.

Softly, slowly, he felt warm calloused fingers touch his cheek. "She's not gone Gendry, I am only just beginning to find her again."

Before he could open his eyes, he felt soft lips pressing against his own with Arya's hands caressing both sides of his face . Gendry took a deep breath inward and wrapped both his arms tight around Arya's waist. He felt her tentativeness as she pushed her lips onto his a little harder. His lips parted before hers and he tasted the wild, earthy sensation that was all Arya. She let out a soft sigh as Gendry went to deepen the kiss; then he felt Arya pull away and he tasted nothing but air.

He opened his eyes and saw Arya staring at him, another unreadable expression on her face. Arya pressed a chaste kiss to Gendry's forehead and then pressed her forehead against his, "I owe the Red God one more life and then he will be done with me forever…I hope."

Gendry hummed his agreement and silently prayed to whichever gods were listening, that when Arya was done with this mission and her family restored, that the demons that were haunting her would finally set the wolf-girl free.


	15. Chapter 15

Varys sighed and kneaded his hairless forehead between his fingers. The seemingly endless letters in front of him told him much of what he needed to know of the goings on in Westeros. Stannis was ruling justly, as was expected. The Southern Lords were claiming to have supported his claim all along, as was also expected. Ramsay Snow, now Bolton, was up to his usual antics in the North. The women of Wintertown were all on a non-official curfew so they could not be kidnapped for one of his 'hunts'. Fear spread through the North, not unlike the fear that was in King's Landing when the Mad King began to lose his mind. The sooner they made port in Westeros the better; for the remaining Starks, for Gendry, and the realm.

The eunuch knew when he started searching for Arya Stark that it would be a daunting task. The last person to see her alive had been the Hound when she left him near the Trident. But that was only a whisper. No one had seen the Hound in years either. There were rumors circulating that Arya had left the country, but it could not be verified by anyone. It had been so long since her last sighting; even the rumors had worn thin. When Varys had almost given up hope of finding the she-wolf, one of his little birds in the Brotherhood without Banners had reported a bastard of Robert Baratheon, who had lamented the loss of a highborn girl who dressed as a boy. Varys sent his people to collect Gendry immediately.

Gendry had not been the man he was before Arya left. He was broken; drinking and brawling had become his solution to forgetting the wolf girl who vanished from his life but never from his thoughts.

Varys feared that Westeros could not handle another situation like that of Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark. Instead of waiting for an uncertain future reunion, the Master of Whispers once again took the fate of Westeros, and the two young people, into his silky hands.

*FLASHBACK*

"AHHHH!" Gendry screamed as the cold water drenched his sordid clothes. He shook his head like a drenched dog, his unkempt facial hair and overgrown locks splattered water all over the rock walls.

"Come on you bastards! You think you can beat me? Untie me and I'll rearrange your bloody faces!" Gendry struggled against the bonds that were keeping him tied in a sitting position on the cold damp floor. He had been taken during a night of drinking and his hangover this morning was killer.

"Tsk tsk, there will be none of that!" Varys tutted from the far side of the room-well out of Gendry's reach.

Gendry squinted up at him, red eyes narrowing as he took in the effeminate man. "And who the fuck are you?"

That statement earned him a blow to the head, almost knocking him to the floor. Gendry moved his jaw and tried to ease the tension from the hit. "Well you're powerful, eunuch, I'll give you that. Strong enough to get people to do the hitting for you."

"Gendry, do you know why I ordered my men to find you and drag you out of that horrendous excuse for a hotel?"

"Because I was about to kick the shit out of them?"

"No," Varys stepped out of the relative safety of his corner and came closer to the man tied on the floor. The eunuch knelt down to look Gendry in his Baratheon blue eyes. "I need your help. You have something of use to me."

"Well I'm not giving you use of my cock if that's what rings your bells."

Varys sighed. Whoever the young man's mother was, her genes must not have overridden Robert's vulgarity. Or maybe it was the alcohol talking. Varys hoped it was the alcohol or this excursion would become tiresome very quickly.

"What do you know about Arya Stark?"

Gendry stiffened at the name. He set his bearded jaw and pursed his lips together, unwilling to reveal much.

"Gendry, you may not know me or my motives. But it is of vital importance to find Arya Stark and return her to her place in Winterfell. She is a Lady of the Nor…"

"She's not a lady," Gendry interrupted. "If you don't know that one basic fact about her, then you are no friend of hers."

"She's the one with what they call 'wolf-blood'," Varys nodded. "She's too wild to be tamed by the aristocratic society. Her place at Winterfell is not as its lady but as its avenger, despite her title. The Bastard of the Dreadfort has reigned too long in the North. As the old saying goes, there must be a Stark in Winterfell."

"How the bloody hell are you planning on finding her? No one's seen hide nor tail of her for years! Not the real Arya anyway...She's probably dead," Gendry spat out, his eyes showing more pain than his voice betrayed.

"Gone yes, but not dead. I heard tales that she's gone overseas…"

"There's not a damn reason she'd go overseas," Gendry scoffed. He opened his mouth to continue smarmily disagreeing with everything that Varys said, but then a thought occurred to him. "No… it can't be…"

Varys leaned forward expectantly.

"She would go to the House of Black and White….Braavos. A man we knew, when we escaped from Harrenhal….he gave her a coin and told her to go to Braavos if she ever changed her mind about completing her list."

"Well done little bird," Varys stood up and wiped his hands clean. "I'll write to Braavos and begin searching there."

"That's it then? I can leave?" Gendry asked suspiciously.

"Oh no my dear boy, you aren't going anywhere," Varys turned back and observed Gendry. "I know for a fact she won't listen to me about coming back to Westeros. If she's at the House of Black and White, which is the only conclusion I can draw from what you have told me, I cannot even guarantee she is the same feisty female you remember. The Faceless Men do things to a person, unspeakable things; make them forget who they are. Turn a man or woman into a vicious, emotionless killer with no name or history. Literally, turn them into No One."

"She won't remember?" Gendry felt a lump in his throat. "Nothing about her old life?"

"That's why we need you, Gendry. You'll remind her, bring her back to us as Arya, not as No One" Varys smiled a little smile to himself. "You will remind her of who she was, and perhaps another old friend could be of assistance."

*END FLASHBACK*

Now the little group was on its way back to Westeros and would land on the morrow. Varys tittered happily to himself, shuffling the letters on his desk. All was going to plan. There would be a Stark in Winterfell, a family reunion, and a Northern Kingdom soon enough.


	16. Chapter 16

Westeros had not changed a bit, Arya thought as the crew unloaded various cases and trunks off the ship. They had made port in King's Landing-a part of the Spider's plan which Arya had instantly disagreed with. But Varys was calling the shots, so Arya had grudgingly stepped onto a dock in one of the most disgusting despicable cities she had ever encountered. It still smelled like rotten fish, disease, and excrement. When she mentioned her hatred of the place to Gendry, he shrugged and replied " It's the only home I've ever known."

Arya immediately regretted her words and was about to apologize when Gendry laid a massive hand on her shoulder. "It's a dump though and it's only ever brought me heartache."

Arya nodded in agreement and the two walked side by side to the horses Varys' servants were holding for them. The servants raised their eyebrows at the young lady who was not only wearing breeches, but refused to ride side-saddle.

"You're going to attract a lot of attention like that," Gendry muttered as they rode towards the chosen hide-out.

"Like what?" Arya raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not doing anything."

"You're a young lady. I know they do things differently in Braavos, but you can't ride like a man or wear breeches or carry a sword here."

"Oh," Arya pondered this for a moment. She had forgotten how persecuting the glares could be. Her freedom in Braavos had changed her perspective on women. Anything unusual about them would draw unwanted attention. Considering the events about to unfold, she wanted to reach their meeting place without raising suspicion.

"I suppose you're right," she said and darted into an alleyway.

"Arya!"

A moment later, a boy who looked similar to Gendry emerged on Arya's horse. He was younger than Gendry, slighter in build but just as broad in the chest. Grey eyes met blue and Arya's voice whispered quietly, "Might be easier if we could pass as brothers don't you think?"

Gendry blinked. "That's bloody strange Arya."

"Arry." The boy's voice dropped a few octaves. "My name is Arry unless we're alone."

"You haven't been Arry for a long time."

"No, but I haven't been on the run in a long time either."

xXx

They got a room at an inn just outside of the city, as Varys had instructed. Word had reached Varys that King Stannis had called his Wardens to King's Landing to discuss the state of the realm. The White Walkers having been defeated by Lord Commander Jon Snow and the men of the Night's Watch, while the Spider was away, Westeros had since been in a time of relative peace.

According to Varys, all the Wardens would be meeting at the Red Keep the day after their arrival in King's Landing. The meetings would last for one week. Arya would strike on the last night, right after the farewell feast. It would be the most dramatic, Varys said.

"This display of power on the side of House Stark will prove it's prowess to the other Houses," Varys had explained the night before they had reached port. "The return of the Direwolf to the game of thrones will not be overlooked."

Arya remembered his words that evening as she watched the major houses parade into the city. The broad arms of almost Gendry's body were crossed in front of her chest, her eyes narrowed. To the crowd of peasants observing, the bastard boy Arry was the perfect picture someone who loathed the sight of the nobles in front of him and yet desperately wanted to be a part of that exclusive lifestyle.

"What's on your mind?" Gendry came up behind her and asked.

"How do you know I have something on my mind?"

"No matter what face you wear, your eyebrows furrow together when you're deep in thought."

Instantly, the lines on his 'little brother's' forehead disappeared. "I'm thinking that I don't want to go back to that life."

"Who says you have to?" Gendry inquired.

Gendry wondered if he ever had the gall to look that impertinent when someone asked him a question.

"I'm one of the two Stark children left," Arry answered. "If Sansa can't have children, or she dies, or something else goes wrong, it's up to me to make sure the pack continues."

"The pack? Is that a northern thing?"

"It's a Stark thing," Arya's voice slipped through and spoke Arry's words. "We are the North."

Gendry nodded thoughtfully as they continued to watch the processions of people in comfortable silence.

xXx

The night before the feast, the two companions lingered in silence as they prepared for bed. Arya decided it wpuld be best if she only wore her own face when it was jut the two of them. They paid for their room as Arry and Gendry, since it was no matter to have two 'men' share one room. The duo had taken to sleeping in the same bed, being careful not to touch as they went to sleep, but always coming back together before the night was over. His arms wrapped around her waist, her fingers interlaced with his; just as they had when they were children. Whoever woke first let go as quickly as they could, trying not to wake the other, afraid of pushing the limits so tentatively set between them.

"How do you plan on getting into the feast?" Gendry asked as he pulled off his boots.

"Walking in wearing someone's face, I've given food poisoning to a few of them, so I'll have my choice of faces tomorrow. From there I'll enter pretending to be a servant, seek out the Bastard's quarters and put a knife in his throat," Arya said calmly.

"You freak me out when you do that," Gendry said as he pulled off his tunic.

"Do what?" Confused, Arya looked up from lacing her night shirt.

"Speak about death so matter of factly."

Arya sighed as she got under the covers. "I'm trying Gen, really trying. It's hard not to sometimes."

"S'all right." Gendry shrugged and climbed into bed next to her, careful not to touch her.

Arya was almost asleep when she felt Gendry's fingertips brush back her hair. She gave a little gasp and silently prayed he didn't hear it. "Do you really think you'll have to marry a lord one day?"

"If Sansa can't I'll have to. Somebody who's in a major house of some kind..." Arya sighed and subconsciously leaned into Gendry's touch. "I don't like to think about it. Men are gross."

"Thanks," Gendry snorted.

"You know what I mean, stupid," Arya laughed. " I just don't want to marry anyone."

"Why? Surely you've...you know...before?" Gendry blushed, grateful for the darkness.

"That...that's not it!" Arya stammered, also embarrassed. "I'd have to be a lady and be proper and all the things I was horrible at." She paused. "That I am STILL horrible at."

Gendry tilted up her chin and made her look at him. "Arya, the Northmen would follow you, you're a warrior. They'd respect that about you and follow you. You don't play by the southerners rules. No high and mighty lord will be able to take that away from you."

"You wouldn't let them huh Gendry?" Arya asked half-jokingly.

"Never," Gendry said seriously, pushing back her hair once more. "I will never let you lose who you are again."

Arya nodded against his hand.

After a few moments of silence, Gendry asked, "So...you never...?" Not understanding at first, Arya waited for him to continue. But at his flustered expression, she realized what he wanted to ask and quickly responded, "No, never."

"I just thought...what with the Free Cities being so...free and all..."

"I wasn't interested." Arya said trying to keep the waiver out of her voice. Changing the focus quickly she asked, "What about you?"

"Never," Gendry replied at once, not moving his hand from her hair. "Why not?"

"No one I was interested in."

"Oh..." After a moment Arya looked back up at Gendry and said, " I wish things could've been different. I wish I never left for Braavos, I wish you could've stayed with me, I wish..."

"It doesn't matter," Gendry interrupted. " In any situation, no matter what changes we could have made, you'd still be m'lady...and I'd just be," he paused as if he wanted to say something else, then shook his head as if he changed his mind, " I'd just be Gendry."

Arya stared at him and couldn't believe her ears. Her eyes turned cold and she pulled back from him. "Right, just your lady. Just Gendry." Then she rolled over and ignored him, as well as the wetness trailing down her cheeks.


	17. Chapter 17

This was not part of the plan.

Arya raced down the stone hall, wearing her own face and running for her life. Goldcloaks shouted to one another behind her, trying to find a way to trap her in the Red Keep. Little did the Kingsguard know that through Syrio's lessons she had acquired more knowledge of the castle then anyone, except perhaps the original architect. She ducked into a cupboard with a trap door and threw herself into the tunnels running underneath it. There she held her breath and waited anxiously for the goldcloaks to pass her by, silently cursing Mace Tyrell for his overdramatic disbelief.

*Earlier that evening*

Arya lay in wait for the Bastard of the Dreadfort. She had hidden in his room quite easily. Becoming a shy, trembling chamber maid had been easier than she thought. No one had looked twice at her as she carried some linens into the Warden of the North's quarters. The revelry downstairs would continue long into the night, despite Stannis' disapproval of the whole affair. Some of the stable boys had been gossiping about how Stannis only gave the farewell feast to keep up traditions, but he'd rather be in his own quarters answering letters and attending to affairs of state. He went to bed early and rose with the sun, much like Arya's latest and final target.

Which is exactly why she found it so befuddling when Ramsay did not appear in his room soon after the revelries began.

Arya was impatient by nature, but if there is one thing she would never forget it was that impatience had been the demise of many of Death's messengers. And so she waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

The once proud candles were burning low and their flickering flames danced eerily across the stone walls. Around the witching hour, Ramsay stumbled into his chamber, drunk off his ass, laughing and dragging some poor Northern girl behind him.

"Come here wench," he growled and pulled the Northern girl towards the bed.

"Please m'lord, not tonight," the girl whimpered. "No one in the Red Keep is supposed to know about our games. You said so yourself m'lord."

"Bugger that," Ramsay shoved the girl down and she gave a loud cry. He gripped her wrists above her head with one hand and squeezed the Northern girl hard enough to leave bruises. "And what did I say about the noises?"

"I'm s-sorry…m'lord," the girl whispered. "I know they make the voices scream."

"And we don't want to upset the voices now do we, little girl?" Ramsay hissed as he bit down on the girl's neck.

"Not at all m'lord," the girl winced.

Arya recognized that voice. Jeyne Poole, a friend of Sansa's, was her imposter? How did meek little Jeyne ever pass for a Stark wolf? Especially when she lived her life as the wife of this monster?

Before anything could escalate any further, Arya stood up from her hiding place in the corner and moved silently towards Ramsay.

"My lord?" Arya said in the chamber maid's voice.

"Bloody hell, bitch, what're you doing here?" Ramsay abruptly let go of Jeyne.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, I must've had too much wine and fallen asleep," Arya dipped into a wobbly curtsy that allowed her to discreetly take a dagger out from under her skirt. "I'll take my leave, if it pleases you my lord."

"Maybe I'll let you stay and play with us," Ramsay's eyes glinted maniacally at the prospect of a new 'playmate' as he unwittingly took a step closer to his doom. "Would you like that?"

"I'd love to play," Arya stood up with her own face on. "In fact I have a riddle for you," she swiftly grabbed Ramsay by the collar of his tunic and held the dagger up to his throat. "What did the direwolf say to the bastard who stole her home?"

Ramsay's cold eyes went wide with fear and his mouth hung open like a spluttering fish. In Arya's experience, the abusers were often shocked when their victims finally stood up for themselves.

"You're dead. The Starks are all dead!" he blustered.

"Incorrect," Arya responded as she pressed the blade into his neck. "She said, 'Valar Morghulis.'"

She slit his throat and grinned with satisfaction as he bled out in front of her; Jeyne's screams the sweetest music to her ears.

Taking the sword from Ramsay's belt, she severed his head from his body and placed it into a pillowcase she had carried in with her. Arya turned to Jeyne, bloodlust and pity at war in her Stark grey eyes. The now widow took in another breath to scream for help, but Arya slapped her deftly across the face. As the imposter finally realized that screaming was probably not the best idea, she shut her mouth and did not utter another sound.

Arya gauged her as quickly as she could. "Do you know who I am?"

"A Faceless Man," Jeyne whispered. "A servant of the god of Many Faces. An assassin."

Arya shook her head. "Not anymore."

Kneeling down on the bed, Arya caught her imposter by the wrist and looked Jeyne in the eye. "I am Arya Stark of Winterfell; I have come to take back what's mine."

Jeyne gasped. "Arya? Arya Horseface? That's not possible; we were told you were dead! I-I mean," Jeyne attempted to sit up a little straighter and stop her trembling lips. " My name is Arya S-stark of Winterfell. You're j-just another one of R-ramsay's tricks to m-make me lie about who I am."

"Well obviously, I'm not just another trick because your lord husband's as dead as a wight," Arya repressed the urge to roll her eyes. If there had been tricks like this before, then Jeyne had suffered some terrible things. It was hard to forget who you were, Arya knew that better than anyone, but it was even harder to remember who you were supposed to be.

"Please don't tell Ramsay, I'll be a g-good wife and h-hold my tongue. Please don't let him take it," Jeyne's willpower broke and she sobbed.

"Take what?" Arya questioned.

"My tongue."

"Listen to me, I know who you are," Arya whispered hastily, attempting to keep her voice as gentle as she could given the circumstances. "You were friends with my sister; you were Septa Mordane's favorite. You love cross-stitch and watching Robb and Theon practice-"

"HIS NAME IS REEK!" Jeyne shrieked suddenly. "His name is Reek and I am Arya, and you're just a face-changing trickster who's going to help him mar me further!"

Then she let out a blood curdling scream that sent chills up Arya's back. Arya also expected that someone, okay everyone, in the castle heard Jeyne let loose a shriek that could terrify the Others.

"Jeyne, SHUT UP!" Arya smacked her. "If you don't be quiet everyone will hear you! And I swear, I'll tell Robb about the time you and Arica spied on him bathing in the godswood!"

Jeyne froze and stared at Arya wide-eyed. "You wouldn't."

Arya nodded solemnly, "I would and will unless you take me to Stannis and his Small Council. Now."

Meekly, Jeyne nodded, stood up and started to lead them both down to the Red Keep.

Arya knew that, logically, trying to frighten Jeyne with that statement didn't make any sense. Robb was dead, and Arya wasn't even sure if it was Arica who had seen Robb with Jeyne. But Jeyne's thought process wasn't the most logical, based on the conversation the two had just had. Arya remembered that suppressed memories still held emotion, even if the person refused to acknowledge them.

*ABOUT HALF AN HOUR LATER*

"What, Lady Bolton, is the meaning of this?" Stannis roared as he entered the small council chamber with his advisors and wardens behind him. All present were either half-dressed or in their night clothes, with the exception of the Kingsguard, six of whom waited vigilantly at the door. Varys was among the half-dressed advisors, but he kept his head down, carefully avoiding Arya's eyes as he waited for the situation to unfold.

"Your Grace, I have been misleading you. All of you," Jeyne looked around the chamber apologetically. Arya stood behind her and noticed how the girl's voice had lost some of its earlier trembling.

"Misleading how?" Stannis' eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared as if they could smell the lie about to be unearthed. His eyes moved briefly to Arya before determining her less important than the girl who had called them there.

"I am not who you think I am."

The statement was met with baffled silence until Mace Tyrell, new Master of Coin, let out a hesitant laugh.

"You woke us up in the middle of the night because you're a teenage girl having an identity crisis? Your Grace, this is ridiculous and to be honest, I'm still in my cups so may I take my leave to return to my chambers?"

Some others in the group sleepily murmured their agreement when the Red Woman stepped forward from the back of the room. The lords parted for Melisandre like water parts for oil; she was not accepted in Westeros, but she was most assuredly feared.

"She's not having an identity crisis," The Red Woman's voice held them all captive as insects to a flame. Those deep knowing eyes glanced at Arya then locked onto Jeyne. "Who are you child?"

Jeyne took a deep breath. "I'm…I'm...I'm not Arya Stark. My name is Jeyne…Jeyne Poole."

"What do you mean you're not Arya Stark?" Varys asked incredulously, playing his role perfectly. "Of course you are, Arya."

"My lord husband…that is Ramsay…needed to claim Winterfell. I knew the North; I grew up in Winterfell as a friend to Sansa Stark. Ramsay told me to….pretend to be Arya so he could take the North as his own," Jeyne shakily answered. "He made me forget my name. But it's Jeyne…"

Her voice took on the sing-song quality of a small child as she rocked back and forth on her heels, "Jeyne, Jeyne, it rhymes with pain. Make the rain wash away the pain. Away the pain. Away the pain. Who are you?" She let out another toe-curling shriek and then whispered, "Not Jeyne."

"Someone escort this young woman to the Maester; she is not well," Melisandre snapped at the gold cloaks. Two of the Kingsguard did as they were bid, leaving the Red Woman staring at Arya. Her eyes flicked briefly to the pillowcase that Arya was holding, which had begun to drip blood on the floor.

"Death has come in person," Melisandre quipped as she reached a hand out towards Arya's face. Arya attempted to step back but the Priestess was too fast. When the Red Woman's skin touched her cheek, Arya had to force herself not to cry out. Melisandre was burning, hotter than metal on a forge. Arya felt as if all the untruths in her life had been burned away with that one touch; now all she could see was a clear path of truth before her and she could not wait to share it with others.

"What brings you here, girl-wolf?"

"I came back to reclaim my family home," Arya responded unwillingly. The words fell flaming from her lips as if she had no choice but to speak them. "I came for Winterfell and my sister."

"Who is your sister?"

"Sansa Stark of Winterfell."

"Preposterous!" proclaimed Mace. "Sansa Stark is either dead or long gone; she's gone the way of all the Starks before her."

Ignoring the pompous Southern lord, Melisandre continued with her questioning. "Who are you, young one?"

"I was many people, but now I am only Arya Stark. The last of the true Direwolves and the Avenger of the North."

"Avenger?" Stannis asked, his voice as hard as stone. "What exactly have you come to avenge?"

"My family's slaughter by the Boltons, Lannisters, and Freys," Arya angrily replied. "I have come to take back my family's home from the bastard who stole it."

Mace Tyrell snorted, "As if the Boltons would ever relinquish their hold on the North! Especially not for some half-grown woman, who thinks she is a long lost daughter of Winterfell!"

Canine teeth bared, Arya whispered, "I don't think I left Ramsay much of a choice."

She threw the sack at Mace Tyrell and the man sputtered as Ramsay's head rolled out onto the stone floor. Gasps were heard all around, people started shouting, and Mace Tyrell screeched out, "You're an assassin! An assassin sent to kill all of the most important nobles in Westeros! Guards, guards seize her!"

*PRESENT*

That was how she ended up hiding in a tunnel under a closet, waiting for silence and a chance to escape the Red Keep. Arya rolled her eyes as she recalled the night's events. At least Varys got the dramatic re-entry of the Direwolf.

Inching back against the tunnel, Arya gripped her dagger tightly as she waited for the inevitable fight about to descend upon her.

"Arya, they're gone," a soft voice whispered. Arya heard the rustling of silken robes and kept silent to hear her next instructions. "Gendry is waiting for you in the old Tower of the Hand. Meet him there after I have left this room."

Varys exited silently and swiftly. Arya waited a moment and then took the tunnels up to the Tower of the Hand. As she reached the room, she peered out through the fireplace to ensure it was safe to exit. Gendry was sitting on a stool, playing with his sword with a worried expression on his face. Arya was about to heave herself out and join him, when there was a knock on the wooden door.

Arya jerked back, unsure if it was friend or foe who would enter. Gendry must have been expecting someone because he instantly opened the door and welcomed two hooded figures inside.

As the figures drew back their hoods, Arya had to cover her mouth to hold back a gasp. Stannis and Melisandre stood in the middle of the room looking for all the world as if they had been expecting this all along. Varys must have withheld some information about the plan from her, for Arya could not wrap her mind around the recent events.

She was wondering what to do next when Stannis offered his hand to Gendry and rumbled, "It is good to see you again, nephew."


	18. Chapter 18

Arya almost fell back down into the tunnel as she heard the word "nephew" slide through Stannis' thin lips.

Nephew?

NEPHEW?

How was that even possible? Arya's mind raced as the trio in front of her made small talk.

"Master of Secrets tell you who your daddy is too?"

"I'm not as low-born as you think."

But he did not know who his father was! His mother had been a tavern wench. Some highborn slept with her and left her-that was the tale Gendry always told. Stannis only had two brothers, and his wife was an only child. Renly was a sword swallower; everyone knew that. That meant Gendry's father must've been…

"Robert." Arya breathed out, then instantly clapped a hand over her own mouth.

The Red Woman snapped around at the sound of another voice. Her horrible red eyes peered at the fireplace and then her full red lips smirked. "Come out child, you are among friends now."

Gendry's head turned towards the fireplace and he broke into a huge grin as he caught sight of her. "Arya!"

Before Arya could drop herself back into the tunnel and make a run for it, Gendry grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into a bear hug. "Thank the Seven you're alive!"

"Thank the Lord of Light, Your Grace," corrected Melisandre, her red eyes still watching Arya. "It seems he still has a purpose for the wolf-girl. I told you we would meet again."

"I always knew that Mace Tyrell was an imbecile," said Stannis in a bored tone. "Now I have the evidence to prove it. I am sorry to have you chased out of the room like that, my lady." He nodded his head to Arya who was still struck dumb as the conversation unfolded around her.

"Well it could not be helped, the girl needed to make an entrance and now the masses will hear of the return of the Stark house. It's all going according to plan," Melisandre shrugged and placed a hand on Stannis' shoulder. "The Lord of Light must have seen fit to allow Mace's idiocy for some purpose that is unkno-"

"Would you shut the hell up about your bloody god?" Arya interrupted, her face turning red. "Just what in the seven hells is going on here?"

Three pairs of eyes-one blood red, two Baratheon blue-turned to look at her in shock. Gendry could see her becoming more furious and frightened as the silence wore on. "Arya…"

"Shut up Gendry! Or should I say Your Grace?" she mocked, her fear exploding in fury. "Was this all some sort of master plan? Keep the wolf-bitch in the dark so she will do exactly as we say? Use the skills she has, in order to accomplish our goals, but leave her behind once she's suited your fancy?"

"No Arya, you have to believe me that's not what happened!"

"FUCK YOU! I had a good life in Braavos, oblivious, but good! And now I'm back to find out you're a bloody royal bastard? Or are you Stannis' heir now since he has no sons?" She shot a murderous glare at the king, as if he was nothing more than a street rat who tried to steal her coin purse. "If you wanted Ramsay out of the way why not just revoke his rights to the North? Take away his rights as heir? Or did Varys not think of that in his fucking plan? Fuck him, fuck you, and fuck this whole situation. I am done!"

Arya was about to storm out of the room and go gods knows where when she saw Varys in the doorway.

"Get the hell out of my way eunuch, or I'll run you through," Arya held up Needle to Varys' throat and gave a tiny push so a drop of blood rolled down his smooth neck.

"Before you run me through, as you so eloquently put it, please read this letter," the bald man held out a scroll with the seal of the direwolf on it. "It's from Sansa."

As the trio around them looked onto the exchange, Arya eyed Varys suspiciously. "How do I know this is not just another part of your elaborate scheme 'for the good of the realm'?"

"You don't."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Rage against calm, turmoil against stability, war against peace; all were apparent in the air around them.

Arya caved first. Her grey eyes dropped from the eunuch's and to the scroll he held out to her. She hesitantly took the scroll. Taking a shaky breath, she walked to the other side of the room. Pushing aside the black drape to enter the solar, the curtain fell behind her, masking her from the group's view.

After a few moments, Gendry started to go after her, but Melisandre put a hand on his shoulder. "Leave her, Your Grace. For all her bravado, she is still a young girl with no family. Give her time."

Gendry removed the Red Woman's hand and continued on his way. "I am her family now."

xXx

"Arya?" Gendry called as he pushed aside the curtain. He saw her curled up on the ground sobbing quietly into her hands, the letter on the stone floor beside her.

He crept towards her cautiously. "Arya, what's happened?" He reached her hand out to comorft her, but she spun around and bent his wrist into a painful position.

"Tell me true Gendry Waters," she growled with the tears still shining in her eyes. "What did you know about all of this? Stannis, Melisandre, and the whole lot of them."

"It'd be easier to talk about if you let go of my bloody wrist!"

When Arya did not relent, Gendry did. "Stannis sought me out; you were right he has no sons. After Varys found me, he brought me to meet Stannis again. His attempts to convince the Brotherhood to give me up failed, since I realized they were a bunch of idiots and left, but he thought you might be a sweeter prize. OOOOOOOOOW!" Gendry howled as Arya bent his wrist back even further.

"Alright dammit! You know what I meant, not a prize but way to persuade me to help Varys and your sister."

"I'm not legitimized yet, but he wants me to be. Stannis knew you were coming back to Westeros, as did Melisandre. She saw it in the flames. Something about a wolf who changed its skins but had no home. Varys was concerned that if you knew that people knew about your arrival, you would think it was an ambush to kill the last Stark and you would escape."

"What about my sister? What do you know of her?"

"Just what Varys told you. That she wants proof that you are alive. She contacted him, and said if he could prove that you were alive that she would go back, from wherever she is, and be the Lady of Winterfell."

"Swear that's all you know Gendry. Swear it." Arya's voice trembled.

Baratheon blue met Stark grey and Gendry responded, "I swear."

Arya promptly released his hand. Gendry could not read her expression as she picked up the letter and began to read.

"My dear sister,

If you are reading this, then I must conclude that you truly are Arya returned to Westeros. Varys has instructions not to give this letter to any other person besides the one true Arya.

I have missed you dear sister, and much has changed since I have last set eyes upon you. I will tell you the truth of the story as I know it, and hope you will believe me. But to prove that I am who I say I am, I will tell you something only we two would know.

Mycah did not attack Joffery that day by the river. Joffery tormented Mycah and you and Nymeria saved your friend."

Arya paused and took a deep breath. "Only Sansa would know that. Everyone else who witnessed that event is dead." A sob rose in Arya's throat and she raised a hand to force it back down. "My sister is alive."

Gendry gently took the letter from Arya's hands. The girl frowned and reached for the paper, "You can't read stupid, give it back."

"I can too. I learned with the Brotherhood. One of the brother's was a former Maester." He took her hand in his own to stop her from tearing the letter. He then continued reading aloud.

"Now that I have proved my identity, I will tell you my story.

Once Father was killed, I was tortured, beaten, and shamed in front of the entire court. I later escaped from King's Landing with the help of Petyr Baelish, whom I thought a friend. He took me to the Eyrie where many unfortunate events took place; they were almost as terrible as the travesties in King's Landing. I will not rehash all of them to you here, but sufficed to say that Petyr, Aunt Lysa, and our cousin Sweet Robin are all dead. I now rule with only a choice few who are loyal to me aware of my true identity. The Eyrie is wonderful, but it is not home. I wish to return to Winterfell and hope since you are reading this that you do as well.

Varys does not know that I hold the Eyrie. Stannis wants to relinquish the North to me. He claims that the North is more trouble than it is worth. I have a suitable heir in mind for the Eyrie. She is a bastard, but I have long since learned not to judge people by their birth status. The people of the Eyrie love and respect her; she will be a fair leader in wake of my absence.

With two Starks standing side by side, and the Bastard of the Dreadfort dead, I am certain that Winterfell and Wintertown will rally together once more-especially under the new Queen of the North.

Once I see you in person, we shall discuss what further action to take. I have so much to tell you; I am glad to no longer be the last wolf in the pack.

Your sister,"

"Sansa," Arya whispered, trying to hide the sniffling she was doing. She let go of Gendry's hadn and wiped her snot on her shirtsleeve as she looked up at him.

"Is it true? Stannis will give the Starks the North?"

"It's true," Stannis' voice rang out clear as a bell as he pushed aside the curtain to the solar. "I don't want it. I won't have another rebellion on my hands. This country is through with war and so am I."

Varys and Melisandre quietly entered the solar and watched patiently, waiting for an exchange they knew would come.

Arya stood up and faced the group in front of her, and the unknown with a straight back, the way Ned Stark had taught her to. "We will accept this, Your Grace. Please allow me time to reconnect with my sister and reestablish Winterfell before a formal treaty is made."

"As much time as you need," Stannis nodded. "When will you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Arya said. Gendry nodded and stood beside her.

"The Starks will retake the North within a fortnight."


	19. Chapter 19

SPLAT!

Gendry howled as the snowball met its mark and crept down his neck. Though in King's Landing spring was fully blossomed, in the North it was just starting to stir. Gendry had hated Winter, loathed every second of it. But he could not help but smile as Arya armed herself with less deadly weapons and prepared to assault him on their ride north. Having passed Moat Cailin on the King's Road not three days before, Gendry was certain it would only be a few more days before reaching Winterfell.

"How dare you hit a royal bastard? You'll pay for that!" Gendry called as Arya whooped and rode off to find more ammunition. Gendry scooped some snow off of a branch and waited for the opportunity to strike back.

"Only if you can catch me!" Arya called as she disappeared around the bend.

Gendry charged after her and the two began throwing snow back and forth, hollering and making enough noise to disturb every person they passed. One look at Nymeria, however, was enough to convince the common folk to keep their opinions on rowdy, unsupervised young ruffians to themselves.

The change in Arya had been astounding. The farther North they traveled, the more she became the young girl Gendry had remembered. Laughing, and playing, Arya's inner child was cautiously making her way out. Her change in additude may have ahd something to do with Nymeria, who Varys had gladly given back to Arya. The direwolf had been nearly impossible to contain in King's Landing during their brief visit. Some of the sailors in the port would be telling their whores about their epic battle against a demonic beast, who could shape-changed from a shark to a wolf, for weeks. In reality, Nymeria had broken free of her cage and gone for a swim. The sailors had all been terrified to approach the animal and finally Arya had been summoned to fetch her out of the water. Arya had laughed at the look on the sailors faces and then whistled. Nymeria had happily exited the port and then proceeded to soak the entire crew by shaking the water off of her. Arya had laughed again and said that the wet dog smell would be there for weeks.

Though the transformation on the ride north had been tremendous, there were still moments when Gendry was frightened for Arya; when dark clouds stormed behind her eyes and frozen rage seeped out of her mouth in biting comments, but he was less frightened of her. He had meant what he said to Melisandre about being Arya's family. Given the circumstances, he was not sure Arya wanted anyone besides Sansa to be her family. But that did not mean he was going anywhere.

xXx

The trio stopped at an inn about 10 leauges from Winterfell. Arya dismounted Nymeria then the direwofl trotted off into the woods. "Where's she going?" Gendry asked as he tied up his horse and grabbed the coin purse.

"She wants some rabbit and doesn't think the food smells good here," Arya answered.

"How d'you know that?"

Arya shrugged. "Just do."

Gendry shrugged back and nodded. Arya 'just knew' more and more things about Nymeria as the trip went on.

The inn wasn't empty, but it was just busy enough that Arya felt comfortable wearing her own face. She sat down at a table and signaled for ale while Gendry went to talk to the owner. Being Arya was something she'd have to get used to, especially now that she was back in the North. But it was not all bad. Having Nymeria by her side was helping the transition become easier.

She sipped the ale a pretty serving girl placed on the table and observed the travelers around her. A few farm hands, some serving girls who were trying to avoid being flirted with by said farm hands, some older men who were clearly regulars and….Arya looked away quickly but observed the corner of the inn in her peripheral vision. Her body language showed no fear, only a girl dressed as a boy sipping her ale while waiting on someone. The person in the corner was watching her. Intently.

The person was big. Bigger than most. There was a cloak around the head of the person, obscuring their features. The person was not in armor, but Arya could see an expensive clasp on the cloak. Blue, bright blue. The figure was rich then; sapphires were not common stones. Arya would be very surprised if a nobleman would come willingly to a place such as this. The body language was tense, as if the person was uncomfortable with the people in the inn. If the figure was a high-born, then this would make sense as the common folk still harbored some aminosity towards all high-borns for causing the war. Arya could not sense fear, however, simply an observant air about the person. The figure was trying not to draw attention to itself, but at the same time needed to see.

Gendry was now walking towards Arya. He sat down across from her, blocking the view of person in the corner. "The innkeep said we have to share a room, but it's no problem. Not like we haven't done it before. I ordered some bread and soup for us for dinner."

Arya reached out and touched his hand gently. "Listen carefully. Do not turn around."

Gendry instantly turned and started looking around.

Arya grabbed his chin and jerked his face back to look at her. "Stupid!" she hissed. "You may have just alerted them!"

"Alerted who?" Gendry asked.

"There's someone in the corner watching us. Or more specifically me. They didn't seem too interested in you."

"That's not anything new though is it? Me being ignored," Gendry teased.

"I'm serious Gendry!" Arya said in hushed tones. "I want you to go up to the room. I'm going to pretend I forgot something outside and I'll sleep in the woods with Nymeria. Don't give them any information if they try to talk to you."

Gendry grasped Arya's hand a little more tightly. "Arya, do you think maybe you are overreacting?"

"Why in seven hells would I be overreacting? That person was watching me…"

"Arya, listen to me. You have spent the last few years killing and trying not to get killed. That lifestyle has caused you to be suspicious of everyone," Gendry looked back over his shoulder at the corner. "The person just wants to be left alone. Or maybe he's sleeping. Hell maybe he's dead."

"Very funny," Arya stood up abruptly and pushed her chair back, releasing her hand from Gendry's. "I'm going to find Nymeria."

"Hey, wait," Gendry grabbed her hand again and Arya felt a tingle. He wanted her to stay. "Sleep with me."

"What?" Arya felt herself blush.

"I mean sleep in the room with me," Gendry's cheeks turned pink. "Just go grab Needle and then come back and sleep in here tonight. Please?"

Arya's every instinct screamed to run. But Gendry's eyes, his Baratheon blue eyes, were watching her hopefully. Arya sighed, "Fine."

His face broke into a huge grin. "That's m'lady."

"Don't call me m'lady!"

"As m'lady commands. Ouch!" He laughed as she punched him in the arm.

"I'll go get Needle and go to the room. Which one is it?" Arya gingerly let go of Gendry's hand, the tingling lasting a bit longer than their touch.

"Upstairs, second door on the right."

"Got it."

Arya briefly glanced at the corner. It was empty. Her gut felt sucker punched, but she realized that Gendry was right. Not everyone was out to kill her.

She stepped slowly out into the fading sunlight. Heading toards, the horse Arya kept an eye out all around her. When she reached the beast, she dug quickly through the saddle bag for Needle. Shoving aside cloaks and blankets, Arya cursed. Gendry must have put the blade in the bottom of the bag. Just as she reached the handle, she cut herself on the edge of another blade. "Just my fucking luck," she said sighing.

"The wolf-bitch has a mouth on her, that ain't very lady like," a deep voice growled behind her.

Arya grabbed Needle's hilt and whirled around to see two hulking figures side by side, hands on their swords.

There was no mistaking the Hound, with his wretched scars wreaking havoc on one side of his face. His hair was shorter and did not do much to hide the damage done. The other was a beast of a woman, taller than her companion, with straw blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Blue eyes that matched sapphire clasp connecting her cloak.

"Thought you were dead, dog," Arya spat. "Just another man turned horror story to scare young children into behaving themselves."

"I was once, but unfortunately for you I'm still around."

"Sandor, we're not to frighten her." The blonde woman nudged her companion in the ribs. She turned to Arya, "Apologies my lady."

"If you didn't want to frighten me, then you should not have creepily observed me in the inn. Who sent you? And how do you know who I am?"

"The little bird did," the Hound replied. "We're to take you and the Baratheon bastard to her."


	20. Chapter 20

"Told you so," Arya hissed at Gendry. The duo rode their horses side by side as they followed the Hound and the woman, who introduced herself as Brienne, to meet with Sansa…supposedly.

"You were right, big deal," Gendry grumbled.

"It is a big deal! The fucking HOUND was watching me! What if Sansa hadn't sent him?"

"Well how was I supposed to know you were not over reacting to some stranger?"

Arya took in a breath and quietly screeched, "I do not overreac-"

"Could you shut up wolf bitch? We are almost there. Contain yourself before I am forced to gag your damn mouth shut," Sandor interrupted her.

"The Lady Sansa said we were not to harm, only obtain the two," Brienne admonished Sandor. "Let Lady Arya alone."

"She won't be harmed, only thing a gag will do is give me less of a buggering headache," Sandor protested as the group rode into a small clearing.

"Fuck you Clegane," Arya snarled at him. To Brienne she said, "And I am not a lady, my lady."

"Indeed not," a clear voice carried from the camp located across the clearing. "Not much has changed then dear sister."

Arya pulled her horse to a stop. Her eyes widened as she took in the young woman before her. Arya slid off her horse and went to stand nose to nose with her sister. There she was, looking every bit the lady, clad in a Stark grey dress and a Tully blue cloak, stood Sansa Stark. Arya recalled when Sansa had once towered over her, but the two were now of a height, within mere inches of each other. Arya could feel Sansa's penetrating stare, the same one their mother used to direct at her when she had ruined yet another dress with mud and swordplay.

She's measuring me up, Arya realized. Belatedly deciding to do the same, Arya gave her sister the once over. Tall and slender, with dark auburn hair cascading to her waist, Sansa was the picture of their mother. Arya began to feel a bit like the child she left behind all those years ago. Shaking off the anxiety of being called "Horseface" once again, Arya continued her study of her sister. Sansa maintained her youth and her beauty, but her eyes no longer sparkled with dreams and hope as they once did. Arya recognized darkness in her sister, a cold calculating tendency, hibernating in the back of Sansa's eyes.

"Everything has changed Sansa," Arya replied steadily, her words acknowledging the change in her sister. "But I have missed you all the same."

Sansa's blue orbs softened just a fraction and she gently pulled her sister in for a hug.

Arya felt her throat clog up and desperately tried not to cry. "It's strange not to be the only one left isn't it?"

Sansa pulled away slowly. Resting her hands on Arya's shoulders, she softly spoke, "We are not the only ones. I have one more person for you to meet."

Turning around, Sansa called over to the makeshift tent, "You can come out now. I have no doubt, it is really her."

An elderly septa came around the corner, carrying a silken blue bundle in her arms. Arya could not contain her shock as she heard a baby's whimper. Stepping closer to the old woman, Arya gently pulled back the cloth covering the baby's face. Taking in the baby boy's unmistakable auburn curls, she curiously looked at her sister. "But who…?"

The Hound shuffled his feet and uneasily cleared his throat. At his non-verbal confirmation, Arya could barely contain her rage, thinking the Hound guilty of some horrendous crime. As she was about to grab Needle and run Clegane through, Sansa gently took the baby from the old woman's arms and went to stand beside the Lannister's once loyal dog.

"Sandor saved me , Arya, after…after Petyr. After everything."

"Baelish did this to you?" Arya asked in astonishment, gesturing to the bundle.

"No, no. This little one came after Sandor discovered me in Baelish's confines," Sansa was quick to admonish. "Sandor rescued me, claimed he wanted nothing but the chance to serve me. We tried to control ourselves but it was just," she looked at Sandor with big doe eyes. "Too perfect to wait, and with moon tea in rare supply, Brynden Eddard Snow came a few months later."

"He's your bastard then? A Snow?" Gendry asked.

At Sansa's hesitance Sandor grumbled, "There was no other way," his eyes softening when looking at his son and lady. "After that peckerhead Petyr died by my sword, the little bird damn near jumped my bones!"

"Sandor!" Sansa rebuked quickly, her face blushing prettily in the night air.

"And how did you come into Lady Sansa's service Brienne?" Gendry asked hurriedly, attempting to change the subject off of the beauty and her now tamed beast.

"I was tasked by Lady Catlyn before her death to find the Stark girls and protect them. I set out to find Sansa, because everyone believed Arya dead," Brienne nodded in Arya's direction. "However, I am glad you are here now, my lady. My task is complete."

"Indeed," Arya said, looking admiringly at the large woman. Once upon a time, a little girl from the North would have loved to grow up and be just like this Brienne woman. But that time was past and Arya was on a very different path than that girl had set out upon.

"What do you plan to do now, sister?" Arya continued. "We are about two days ride from Winterfell. What preparations have you made for our arrival?"

"I have been in contact with the Maester there. Maester Lubeck. He is middle aged, only an apprentice when we were living in Winterfell. He believes I am who I say I am and has been spreading the word of our arrival among the townsfolk. My hope is," Sansa shifted little Brynden in her arms. "That we will begin with a celebration, something small, perhaps a few roast hogs. Then we shall set about to fixing the castle, rebuilding connections with the smallfolk and assisting them, and preparing any weapons we might need as well as training all men to use them. Women too, if they wish."

"My lady," Gendry interrupted. "Usually training with weapons is left to men. Present company excluded." He added hastily at Arya and Brienne's matching glares. "The small folk might not be comfortable with the idea of their women being trained. And any knights you have in your service would be affronted by being asked to train with the commoners. I say this as a commoner, my lady; I know how the highborns treated me."

"And I know how dangerous it is to not be able to protect yourself, Gendry. The people will be trained. If the highborn's don't like it, they can train themselves." Sansa looked at him defiantly, not really expecting a retort.

"Who would be able to train such a large group Sansa? And how do you intend to supply the weapons. Tourney sword, real steel; it's expensive to make and maintain quality weapons. The sheer number of weapons necessary for that kind of crowd would be immense," said Arya.

An uncertain quiet fell over the group. "I was hoping you would Arya."

Gendry's eyebrows furrowed and Arya's eyes widened ever slightly.

"There's no one else I would trust to take care of Winterfell's people more than you, Arya. Our brothers are no longer here to lead so we, as Starks, must take up the reigns. After all, Winter is Coming and we must be ready for it."

"It's Spring, my lady." Brienne interrupted gently, thinking Sansa to be speaking about the seasons.

"Yes, Brienne, but last time winter came for the Starks we were caught unawares," Sasna's blue eyes turned to ice. "No one will ever destroy our family ever again."

xXx

Gendry stared out the window long after Arya fell asleep. Brienne had escorted them back to the inn after the group had discussed a few details about moving on to Winterfell within the coming days. Gendry's brain was ricocheting in so many different directions, it was a wonder his head did not explode.

Arya, goingto Winterfell to stay, to train, to fight.

It's what she has always wanted, Gendry thought. Her home, her family, and the chance to stay true to who she is.

He knew that he couldn't give her that. Not if Stannis made him his heir. She would have to be a queen of the Seven Kingdoms, constantly scrutinized and always under suspicion for her past. She would be miserable.

You're getting ahead of yourself, Waters. Gendry reproached himself as he punched the pillow to fluff it up.

Arya rolled over in her sleep and mumbled incoherently. Her eyebrows were scrunched together and her breathing was coming more rapidly. "Mnhm…No…no please…"

Gendry was used to her nightmares, but since they began traveling north the terrors had become fewer and farther between. He was worried the reconnection with her sister was bringing back memories that were difficult for Arya's subconcious to process.

"No….no you can't…he's innocent he didn't betray Robert!"

Gendry laid down next to her as her face twitched and she seemed to be put through more pain.

"Father no please!" Arya began to sob quietly in her sleep.

Gendry scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms securely around her middle and pulled her into his chest. She calmed down significantly and curled into his chest, her fingers intertwining with the laces on his night shirt.

He felt better that he was able to help her in this small way even if Arya would never let him do this while she was awake.

"Mhm…Gendry…" Arya sighed and Gendry was worried he had woke her up when she began snoring. Gendry didn't want anyone else to see this softer side of her. Realizing this, while closing his eyes, Gendry also realized what he had to do.


	21. Chapter 21

The group's trek to Winterfell passed more quickly than Arya anticipated. Her reconnection with her sister, as well as the new additions to her pack, made the trip enjoyable. Though Arya had always been one on the outside, never quite fitting in anywhere, she found herself among people with shared experiences. Between Sandor's bawdy behavior, Brienne's strong and honest countenance, and Sansa's motherly instincts towards all of them, Arya almost felt at home again. Gendry's melancholy silence was the only downside of the reconnection. Arya tried to speak to him about it, but he had not had much to say. Arya sighed as trudged along the King's Road and recalled their brief conversation from the day before.

xXx

"What's the matter bull? Cat got your tongue?" Arya asked with a grin as she pulled her horse up alongside him.

Gendry shrugged and continued steadily along on his horse.

"Seriously, Gen, what's up? Everything's going to plan-even better than we expected. I thought we would have to pull another King's Landing scheme to get inside Winterfell, but it looks like Sansa's charms may have gotten us in with less trouble."

"Good for her. And you I suppose," Gendry mumbled, looking off into the distance-as if by staring hard enough he could make Wintertown appear sooner.

"What's that mean then? You 'suppose'?" Arya made quotation marks in the air with the hand that wasn't holding her horse's reigns. "It's wonderful! The North is safe. The Starks get to go home. I get to go home."

Gendry shook his head. "Nothing, it don't mean nothing m'lady."

"Well when you figure it out, let me know my lord." Arya said in disgust to mask her confusion. She urged her horse ahead of Gendry's. What was his deal?

xXx

Every member of the motley crew was a bit tense by the end of the second day. Anxiety of the inevitable encounter between Wintertown's residents and themselves had put a slight damper on the reunion. Twilight had fallen and the wind whispered eerily through the trees. Sandor was in the front of the group, followed by Sansa and Brynden. Next came Arya and Gendry, riding tensely in silence. Brienne and the elderly septa, Septa Highstone from the Erye, brought up the rear.

As the group reached the crest of the hill, Sandor raised one fist in the air, signaling the riders to halt.

Arya instantly did so, her hand going to Needle as she heard Sandor call out, "Who's there? Come out from those trees you buggering rodents, before I squash the lot of you beneath my boots!"

Scratching through the trees was heard as the 'rodents' clambered to the ground. Most were small, but all were armed with sharpened sticks and sacks of stones. No match for a real weapon, but they seemed to take themselves seriously. One brave soul stepped forward, though his quivering, cracking voice gave him away as a juvenile who had not yet reached manhood.

"We are the guards-the guards of Winterfell! And who might you be s-ser, to come to the outskirts of W-Wintertown so armed?"

"I'm the bloody Hound boy! Hasn't anyone ever told you the stories of the monster who eats insolent little shits who try to call him ser?" Sandor called back.

Arya almost pitied the lad, who with his chin held high, was now shaking in his worn out boots. Sansa must have had similar thoughts because she put her hand on Sandor's shoulder and rode her gentle mare forward.

"What is your name, boy?" Sansa asked.

"Jakoby, m-m'lady."

"Do you know where to find Maester Lubeck, Jakoby?"

"Yes m'lady, he's in the town square preparin' for-ouch!" Jackoby rubbed his side where a little black haired girl, who was obviously his sister, had elbowed him. "What was that for, Alana?"

"We ain't supposed to tell no one nuffin' till the Maester sees them hisself!" Alana stage whispered. She stuck her spear in the ground beside her with a very stern air and said, "Sorry, you lot. But you're not goin' no wheres till the Maester sees you."

"Right you are, Alana. Best to follow orders." Sansa said kindly. She raised her voice so she could address the group. "Now, who among you is the fastest runner?"

Several of the boys and two girls stepped forward. The boys were pushing and shoving to get to the front, hoping to impress the lady and her comrades. Two girls, tall and lanky, were standing in the back. Sansa called them forward.

"If Maester Lubeck wishes to see any visitors himself, then he shall. Could you please run to Winterfell and give him this? We will wait here for your return." Sansa pulled out a scroll with the direwolf seal impressed upon it in silver wax.

One of the girls nodded and accepted the scroll while the older one looked suspiciously at Sansa. "That's the Stark seal that is. How do we know you're not pretend Starks, like the one who married the Bastard of the Dreadfort?"

"You are a sharp girl," Arya said quietly and the group of children turned towards her. "And right to be suspicious. You have no reason to trust us, especially after the hard winter with the Bolton Bastard. You might not even be old enough to remember what the real Stark family looked like." She leaned her head down and whispered conspiratorially, "But would a pretend Stark have a real direwolf?"

As Arya spoke, Nymeria came out on the other side of the road and gave a howl that startled all the children and cause a few of them to shriek in fear. Even brave Alana's eyes widened at the sight of the massive horse-sized wolf.

The tall girl nodded mutely and took off running, the younger one close behind.

With her job completed Nymeria lay down under a pine tree and laid her tail over her nose. None of the children dared to approach her, except little Alana. Arya watched carefully because she didn't know how Nymeria would react to children. It had been ages anyone that young had been around Nymeria. Alana sat criss cross applesauce right in front of Nymeria's face and carefully inspected the creature. The direwolf opened one eye lazily, and carefully studied the child in front of her. Fearlessly, Alana touched the wolf right between the ears, like one would pet a dog. Nymeria was shocked for a moment and then allowed the courageous little girl to stroke her, while the rest of the group looked on in wonder at the easy transition of the duo from strangers to friends.

xXx

Maester Lubeck was a kind middle aged man. His face was lined and his right ear missing from frost bite, but his eyes were bright and did not miss a thing. All the children loved him, coming to surround him almost instantly. Everyone had a story to tell him of the adventures they had while waiting for the Starks to return and he gave a kind comment to each of them. Turning towards the adults on horses, he welcomed them, "My Lady Sansa, it is an honor to finally meet you in person."

"And you as well Maester Lubeck. Allow me to introduce my company," Sansa gestured to those around her. "This is my protector and father of my son, Sandor Clegane. My captain of the guard Lady Brienne of Tarth. Septa Highstone, who helps care for my son Brynden Snow. My sister Arya Stark and her…."Sansa paused almost imperceptibly, "traveling companion Ser Gendry Baratheon, natural born and legitimized son of the late King Robert Baratheon."

"A motley crew you have here my lady," Maester Lubeck stated with kindness in his eyes as he looked around at all of them. "All have traveled so far, lost so much and yet," he paused as he looked at Gendry and Arya, "Some have so much farther to go."

Clapping his hands together he continued, "But I digress! Welcome! Welcome to you all! We have a feast prepared and all the folk in Wintertown are so happy to hear of your return Lady Sansa and Lady Arya! I am sure the children would be happy to show you the way to the celebration…"

Jakoby let out a whoop of ecstasy and hollered, "Let's get us some pig lads!"

He raced off down the road towards Wintertown with the rest of the children darting after him. As they crossed the crest of the hill Arya could see the bonfires crackling in the distance. A warm welcome home.

xXx

Although there were only a few roasted hogs it felt like a feast from Sansa's childhood. The fires crackled merrily as the children danced and raced around them, singing songs and acting like children. Sansa knew this new life with the Starks as lords of Winterfell would be a welcome change for all who lived there. She would never let someone take advantage of her family or her people as her enemies once did to her. She would protect each of these children as if they were her own. Most of them had no families of their own; as Maester Lubeck explained to her on the way back to Wintertown. the Winter, the Boltons , and the war had taken many. Sansa vowed in her heart to keep them as safe as she would Brynden, starting with Arya's protective training.

Sansa's memories told her that her sister was an unpredictable creature at the best of times. Now it was even harder to get a read on her than it had been as children. Sansa had been the good girl, always doing exactly as she was told. Arya's borderline insolent attitude was as foreign to Sansa as High Valyrian. Having spent so much time apart, the two now had more in common than ever. Both were more calculating, more suspicious, and were in possession of a heart that was beginning to thaw. Sansa's with Sandor and Brynden's help. Arya's, Sansa suspected, with Gendry's.

With Sandor standing guard steadily by her side, the lady Stark pondered her sister's relationship with the naturalized Baratheon bastard.. It was as if there was a force between Gendry and Arya, thrusting them together and roughly wrenching them apart again. Arya had shared a bit of her and Gendry's story with Sansa on the first night they spent together on the road. The two had been through a lot together between Harrenhal and King's Landing, Braavos and the sea journey. Sansa had long ago put aside her childish predjudice against bastards and lowborns. Even a swineherd of the lowest birth might be a kinder and wiser friend than a highborn lord. Gendry it seemed was much like Arya in the way he never quite fit into either class, and it suited him just fine. While Arya had rebelled against her birth status and in the process changed herself greatly, Gendry had not had a choice in the matter and now was a possible heir to the Iron Throne. As laughter and ale poured out abundantly around her, Sansa wondered where Gendry and Arya's paths would lead them.

A shouting young couple at the far end of the festivities suddenly snapped Sansa from her thoughts.

"Fine then you stupid bullheaded boy! Get out of here!" A shriek pierced through the crisp spring air. Sansa stood at the sound of her sister so distraught and Sandor also took a step forward. "You think after all of this you can just leave because it's your DUTY?"

Sansa saw Gendry leading his horse around the outskirts of the crowd, heading towards Sansa. He was trying it would seem, to maneuver the horse and placate Arya, but the younger Stark girl was having none of it.

"After all the hell the highborns put you through, put us through, you still want to be a part of it?" Arya's voice was straining from emotion.

"I told you Arya, I need to see my uncle. There are important matters that I need to discuss with him.I have been gone far too long," Gendry said quietly, showing none of the mounting hysteria that Arya was exemplifying.

"Well you can just bugger off Gendry Baratheon, go back to those highborn cunts in King's Landing and stay there!" Arya smacked him in the face and ran off towards Winterfell, her unbidden sobs escaping into the night air.

By now the couple's altercation had drawn a bit of a crowd, but Gendry continued relentlessly towards Sansa, undeterred by Arya's outburst. "My lady, I must return to King's Landing. I wish you all the best in your endeavors."

"Ser Gendry, really," Sansa began, "You must stay the night. It is far too late to begin such a journey…"

"I am afraid I must insist L-lady Sansa," Gendry said fumbling over the title. Sansa saw him swallow tightly and knew he was holding back tears. "I have urgent business to attend to in the capitol-"

"Surely it can wait one night. I know your uncle ,our King, is a rigid man, but even he would not begrudge you a good night's rest before traveling so far a distance," Sansa simpered, using the charms Mya had taught her would work on any man.

But Gendry was not known as "the Bull" for nothing. "He may not, my lady, but I do. I must speak with him immediately and I beg your leave."

Sansa looked at the young man for a moment, studied him in this time of possible weakness. However, Gendry was even more challenging to get a read on than Arya. He was emotional at this moment, but what was the reasoning?

Unsure of how to convince him otherwise, and not wishing to cause a scene among her new subjects, Sansa bowed her head in consent. "Very well Ser Gendry, may the Old gods and the new watch over you as you travel. My regards to King Stannis and my thanks to the Spider. "

Gendry bowed his head and climbed on his horse. As he turned the horse to leave, Sansa called out, "When might you return to us, ser?"

Gendry paused and quietly responded before riding off into the night, "When I have finished my business, my lady."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short moments that take place over two years in Arya's life. Angst isn't really my thing but I did try. Thank you!

Arya's eyes were bloodshot again- not from crying as everyone suspected-but from lack of sleep. Eight months had passed since that stupid bullheaded bastard had gone back to King's Landing. Out of almost two hundred and fifty nights, Arya hadn't dragged a decent night's sleep from any of them. Every day she trained the people of Winterfell and Wintertown to fight. Not everyone had approved at first- some of the teenage boys seem to think it was a waste of time to learn from a girl, and a highborn no less. But when she threw a knife that lopped off the ponytail of the loudest lout, they ate a bit of crow and humbly accepted her teachings.

Now she was dragging herself down to the courtyard to train, Nymeria trotting by her side. Entering the armory, Arya absentmindedly ran her fingers across each weapon as she passed it by. She sat down wearily on the wooden stool in the corner. Her thoughts were everywhere and nowhere at once as she caressed Needle with the whetstone, sharpening her carefully with each stroke.

Alana's footwork is improving, though she needs to quit standing so heavily

-Gendry stands worse than her. He lives up to the nickname of 'Bull'-

Sansa's asking after the soldiers again, can't put her off for much longer even if they aren't ready

-Gendry could have forged them proper weapons and they'd be trained by now-

Wonder if the Hound would let me borrow his great sword for a lesson

Gendry would have made me one without all the bickering

Hopefully the cooks get breakfast right this morning, gods that stuff wasn't pleasant enough to feed rats

GENDRYGENDRYGENDRYGENDRY

"AUGH!" Arya shouted as the whetstone missed and she sliced herself on Needle. "Gods dammit, bloody hell."

As she searched for a rag to bind the wound, tears sprung to her eyes that had nothing to do with the slice on her palm and everything to do with her bleeding heart.

She should have known that it would have never worked between them. Not that they had ever decided there was something between them. Although she had desperately wanted to tell him so many times, it was all too late now. He was too stubborn about doing the 'attending to the business of the kingdom' and she was focused on doing everything but.

It had been eight months and there had not been one word from the capitol. Eight months and the only letter the Stark's had received was from the King of the South. Stannis was as good as his word and bestowed freedom upon the North. Sansa had called her banner men to let them know of the Starks' return to the North and the freedom that came with it. Of course every single banner man had agreed to Sansa's right as Dowager Queen until young Brynden Snow, now Stark, came of age. Although Sansa had refused to say anything officially to her court about her son's paternity, Brynden had been legitimized and was now the heir to the Throne in the North. No one could doubt the looks that were shared between Queen Sansa and her captain of the guard, nor could they drown out the moans and howls coming from the royal chambers nearly every night. However, questions went unasked and any suggestive comments were rebuked swiftly and harshly by Her Majesty. Once again, Arya's big sister's charm had won them over, every man in the North, lord and serf alike so no one dared defy her.

Binding her wound carefully, Arya realized that she would have given almost anything to have just enough charm to win over one man in the kingdom. Just one.

Picking up Needle gingerly, Arya shrugged off the melancholy thoughts and walked into the foggy practice yard-a shadow in the mist once again.

xXx

"Dammit Jakoby! What did I say about the Valyrian Steel?" Arya snapped at the boy, who only looked remorseful because his instructors had caught him and his mates sneaking into the locked portion of the armory. He mumbled something incoherent and Sandor, who was assisting, picked him up and shook him by the collar. "Speak up boy!"

"To not touch it."

"To not touch it." Arya turned around to the group of boys who had accompanied Jakoby. "And why did I tell you to not touch it?"

The boys were silent, terrified of punishment, when a small sing-song voice piped up from the doorway, "Cuz it's reaaaaaaaaaaaaaally valuble and reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally dangeeous, and a bunch of nitwits like them would prolly chop their own godsdamn sword hands off, Lady Arya."

Alana looked so pleased with her answer; it was almost verbatim what Arya had told the boys earlier that week and Arya could not scold her. "Damn straight. And now look! Landon has almost sliced his hand off! For shame, you lot are supposed to be my leading swordsmen!" This wasn't entirely true, but it did motivate the boys to work harder when they'd rather be playing knights and wights.

"Are you all right Landon?" Arya asked kneeling down to inspect the laceration. Landon, a small frail boy, who most likely had just gotten coerced into sneaking in with his mates, nodded. Arya pulled him up to his feet and barked, "Get him up to Maester Lubek, the lot of you! Don't even think about trying to pull something like this again or I'll set Nymeria on you!"

Sneaking a glance at the direwolf, the boys quickly led their friend in the direction of the Maester's quarters, mumbling apologies and quietly gloating about their lack of punishment.

"You know that threat's about as useful as a dungbeetle with a sword, right?" Sandor raspily laughed as soon as the boys were around the corner.

"You and I know that, but she's still a bit frightening, aren't you girl?" Arya rubbed her friend's nose playfully and Nymeria let out a good-natured bark.

"About as frightening as my baby brother," Alana piped up as she attempted to wrap her arms around Nymeria, who was much too broad for the tiny child's limbs.

xXx

"Just because there has been no word from the capitol does not mean he's forgotten you, Arya," Sansa stated calmly as Brynden pulled on her hair in the Queen's private chambers.

"I don't give a damn if he's forgotten me or not," Arya said bitterly as she flipped a dagger in her hands.

"That's a lie and we both know it," Sansa admonished her sister as the little Prince grabbed onto his mother's nose. "It's alright to miss him. Naturual, even."

"I don't miss him," Arya took her nephew out of her sister's hands and tossed him into the air, his childish laughter quite at odds with the adult conversation around him. "Really I don't."

"Well you cannot be surprised if, after a year, some lad comes around trying to….get to know you," Sansa said gently.

"I don't wish to know any of the highborn brats. No I don't, Brynden. No I don't, none of them are as charming as you. No they aren't," Arya rubbed noses with her nephew and deftly avoided his grubby fists attempting to grab her hair.

"It is not the highborns I speak of Arya. You know I would never force you to marry, especially not after what happened in King's Landing with the Lannisters. But some of these young lads you train are speaking about…courting you."

"They can only court me if they beat me, little snot noses. I don't want any of that lot anyway. They wouldn't respect me as a leader if I slagged about."

"No one mentioned slagging, Arya," Sansa rolled her eyes, having gotten used to her sister's mouth.

"Doesn't matter, I won't have them," Arya said obstinately. "Speaking of which, I've got to go. Children's group's training this afternoon."

Sansa sighed as Brynden was given gently to her. "You cannot be alone forever, Arya it is not healthy."

"I can do whatever I please," Arya called back behind her as she walked down the stairs.

xXx

"A toast to Lady Arya and her wondrous band of warriors!" roared Pippa, a boisterous bawdy woman who could hold her ale as well as any man. "For savin' us from those rascally bandits, the Brotherhood!"

A great cheer rose from among the folk of Winterfell who had gathered in the great hall to celebrate the dispersing of the Brotherhood without Banners.

The Brotherhood had come without warning, planning to take the small folk by storm. According to the young warriors who had snuck into the camp and listened to the Brother's boisterous talk, planned to solicit food, shelter, and gold from the townsfolk in order for 'protection'.

Naturally, Arya and her ragtag team had snuck up on them in the middle of the night, armed to the teeth, and with mighty roars of courage attacked the bewildered and sluggish brothers. The Brotherhood ran for the hills with their tails between their legs, proclaiming the story of how the Children of the Forest were now the guardians of Winterfell.

Ale flowed freely and food was feasted upon. Everyone was celebrating the success of Winterfell's warriors and how far they had come in the two years since the Stark's return. Planting was now finished, Spring was officially here, and all Arya could do was solemnly nurse her drink in the corner of the hall.

She watched the festivities alone, watched as grown men boasted about how bravely their sons and daughters stormed the enemy; watched as young lasses eyed the young men who had protected their way of life; watched as Sansa bounced the now two name-days old Brynden happily on her knee and Sandor observed the two with of them with delight hidden behind a simple smile.

All of Winterfell had something to celebrate-except her.

Though she took pride in her victory and her trainees' impeccable execution of the plan, the exuberant joy of the masses escaped her. Happiness had evaded her for two years now and no drink was bringing it back.

Though the Dornish wine was certainly helping to numb the emptiness, she thought as she took another sip.

Long into the night the masses made merry as Arya drank a steady stream of the spirits. Soon after the last couple attempted to sneak off into the barnyard, Arya found herself stumbling out of the hall and towards the armory, the only place she even felt remotely peaceful these days.

Staggering through the courtyard in the cool night air, Arya once again found herself looking up at the stars and wondering if somewhere, he was thinking of her.

She lay down among her weapons and stared at the dizzying ceiling. "Ah, you stupid bull," she whispered, as water leaked from her glazed eyes. "Why did you have to go?"

"I'm so sorry m'lady, but it had to be done," said a voice out of the darkness.

Arya whipped herself into a sitting position and could barely make out the blurry figure kneeling down beside her. Those piercing blue eyes that had haunted her dreams were now staring back at her from a drunken haze.

"Arya, I'm back. It's me…" Gendry reached out to touch her cheek and as his skin burned against hers, Arya passed out. From the shock or the drink she never did distinguish.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter contains sexual content. If that's not your cuppa, I have placed *** in front of and after the sexual section.
> 
> This will be the last official chapter. I just wanted to say thank you all to my faithful readers for staying with me. Arya and Gendry have grown so much, and sometimes have taken on minds of their own. I hope that you all have loved going along for the ride as much as I have.
> 
> Please enjoy the final chapter of No Longer No One.

Arya awoke before she opened her eyes. The warm furs around her did not rustle with the change of her breathing; she did not want to alert anyone who may have been in the room with her that she was awake. Lying on her side, she carefully listened for wayward footsteps or soft breathing to reveal people's unknown. Only one person besides herself was in the room. She could smell his musky scent. Opening her eyes to see him filled her with more dread than wearing one of Sansa's gowns.

"You can open your eyes now. I know you're awake," Gendry whispered softly.

Arya warily opened one eyelid to spy him sitting on a simple wooden stool next to her. "And how would you know that?"

"You snore like a wild animal. And as you're no longer snoring, I can only assume you're awake."

Glaringly angrily at him over the furs, she spoke through gritted teeth, " . ."

Gendry bowed his head in mock acknowledgement. "As m'lady says."

"How did I get up here anyway?"

"Once you hit your head, I went and fetched Maester Lubeck. Sandor then brought you up while the Maester brewed you some milk of the poppy."

"Why isn't Sansa here with me?" Arya asked. Her unspoken underlying question was-What the hell are you doing here instead of her?

"I wanted to speak with you. Alone. There…..there is much I need to tell you, and it would be a lot harder to say it in front of your sister and her massive husband," Gendry attempted a weak smile which Arya did not return.

Sighing, Gendry continued, "There's a lot that's happened between our last meeting and now….I just don't know where to begin."

"How about why the fuck you left me high and dry?" Arya said bluntly.

"It's part of the journey, Arya." She flinched as she heard the emotion pouring through his voice as he spoke her name. "Please, let me tell you without interruption. If you never want to see me again after I am finished, I'll understand. I left you for two years and that was incredibly painful. But I had a good reason. Please, allow me to explain."

At her begrudged silence, Gendry took a deep breath and began his tale.

xXx

I did leave to attend to business with the King, though don't imagine me such a cur as to leave without good cause. Since meeting your sister, and Sandor, and Brienne, I knew you had a family now. Desperately, I wanted there to be a place for me in Winterfell. But I had promised my Uncle that if no other heirs were found, I would be his heir. King of Seven….well now Six Kingdoms? Me? A bastard from King's Landing? I never thought I'd be any good at being king. Having a hammer in my hand and the heat of the forge around me, that's where I feel at home. I'm not very learned or nothin' either. I like a place where I'd be useful. And I felt like my place was with you, Arya.

Don't give me that look; I know what you're thinkin'. If my place was with you then why'd I leave? Well I'm getting to that bit.

I felt bad for my uncle. That crazy Fire-Witch at his side, the Six Kingdoms he fought for not really appreciating him, the bloody Spider always whispering stressful secrets into his ear-it's enough to make a man go mad.

So I vowed that his future could have one less worry in it.

I wouldn't be an heir to the Six Kingdoms, but I would find him one.

xXx

Two Years Earlier-The Red Keep

xXx

Stannis Baratheon shook his head. "I will not have it nephew. You gave your word that you would be my heir-"

"If no other heirs were found. Exactly how much time did you spend searching for Robert's other bastards after you found me?"

A swift glance between Varys and His Grace told Gendry all he needed to know. "I ask for two years, to find another of my father's bastards. One who is not couth or rough or a drunkard, but one who is fit to replace me as heir to the Seven-"

"Six," Stannis interrupted. "I have Six Kingdoms now, and my only possible heir wishes to desert me for the one I have lost."

"Not for the North, Uncle. For Arya." Gendry stated firmly.

Pensively staring at his nephew for an immeasurable time, Stannis finally sighed. "Robert used to get that look when he spoke about Lyanna Stark. How those Northern women bewitch Baratheon men I will never understand. Will she not consent to be your queen?"

"I would never ask that of her, Your Grace. She is a free spirit-not meant for life at court or all the backstabbing and deceit that comes with it."

"Also, Your Grace, Lady Arya refuses to wear dresses. At court such actions would be most scandalous." Varys added conspiratorially, as if they were maidens gossiping over tea.

"That would never be accepted here," Stannis nodded. "And most certainly not approved of by me."

"Another reason why she would never be happy here, my king. She has worked so hard to get home. I wouldn't drag her kicking and screaming away from her family and back to where she lost them in the first place," Gendry replied. "Please Your Grace; let me find an heir for you."

"Very well Gendry. You may have your two years. In that time, if you do not find a male bastard of my brother's who meets my approval I will have you legitimized. You will become heir to the Iron Throne and you will choose another high-born lady to wed immediately," Stannis conceded. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Good, now leave me. Before I regain my senses and give you a swift kick in the arse."

After exiting the chamber, Gendry turned to Varys. "Alright, Spider. I'm going to need use of your little birds."

"With pleasure Lord Gendry."

xXx

Was it bloody hard?

Absolutely.

Did I want to rip out my hair and scream every time some fool whose mother had fucked my father came forward and proclaimed drunkenly that he would make the best king Westeros had ever seen?

Yes.

Did I think for a second about giving up?

Never.

When we found Roran Storm, wandering around King's Landing right under our noses, I knew some gods somewhere were watching over us.

xXx

"Sit down, Roran. Please help yourself to bread and wine," Varys simpered as the youth tried to hide his awe at his surroundings. They were meeting in one of Littlefinger's old whore houses. Gendry was opposed to it but Varys had insisted.

There's no safer place for secrets than a whore house Gendry, the Spider had said.

"Thank you m'lord, the food is most appreciated." Their guest said as he took a piece of freshly made bread. Roran Storm was a broad shouldered youth of about fifteen name years. He had a closely shorn jet black hair and large, almost feminine blue eyes. His hands were well-built and hardened from heavy labor, mostly moving stone in a quarry according to Varys.

"How do you like it in King's Landing, Roran?" Gendry asked, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"Just fine m'lord. The sea is a bit much to get used to, but I do enjoy it."

"I'm not a lord, Roran. Call me Gendry; I like my name just fine."

"Are you a knight then, ser?"

"No just a bastard. Like yourself, from what I've heard."

"Yes. My mother was a cutlery maid at Storm's End. Before he took up residence in King's Landing, after the final battle of the Rebellion, King Robert stayed for a few weeks in his home castle. I was born about nine months later and my mother swore up and down he was the one who.."Roran blushed. "Uhm….who made me."

He's got manners to not mention fucking in front of 'polite company', Gendry thought to himself.

"How does your mother get along now?" Varys questioned. "Does she still work as a cutlery maid?

"No, m'lord. She's getting along in years now. I take care of us both."

"Very honorable. My mum died when I was young, but I'd do almost anything to be taking care of her now," Gendry said.

"Indeed, ser-uh Gendry. She took care of me all my life, I'm not gonna just leave her uncared for."

"What if we told you that we could house your mother in a place like this," Varys gestured around him. "And you would never have to worry about her again? All we would need is a small favor from her, and from you."

Roran eyed them suspiciously, "What kind of favor?"

"It would involve a lifestyle change, no doubt. But you would indeed be useful to the King's loyal subjects."

Roran jumped out of his chair and shouted, "If you mean to turn my mother or me into a whore, I'll beat you both to a bloody pulp with my bare hands!"

Gendry laughed out loud, "We don't mean to turn you into a whore, boy. We mean to turn you into a king."

xXx

The Red Keep- Three Months Later

xXx

Stannis walked around the freshly clothed, freshly bathed Ronan and inspected him thoroughly. "Born in Storm's End you say? Who is your mother?"

"Mariana Stayworth, Your Grace."

After a pause he said, "The name I recognize. When were you conceived boy?"

Gendry stifled a look at the uncomfortable look on Roran's face. "I was conceived after the end of the Rebellion, Your Grace, when your brother returned to Storm's End to prepare himself for life in King's Landing."

"Few people know that Robert returned to Storm's End before his coronation. Consider yourself lucky that I am one of them, otherwise your story would not add up," Stannis said.

"Yes, Your Grace."

Turning to Varys, Stannis asked, "Is he intelligent?"

"Indeed, my king. It seems that young Roran here had already learned to read from his Maester. Also, he is relatively quick on the uptake of learning all of the Houses in the Six Kingdoms and their members."

"Has he been trained with the knights?"

"Yes, Your Grace, and he is a quick learner in that subject as well."

"Mhm."

Stannis' steps echoed around the stony solar as he further inspected the boy. "He has the look of Robert there is no doubt." He looked over the boy head to foot and back again. "Why do you wish to be King?"

"I want a safe place for my mother and myself. If I get killed in a quarry, who is left to take care of her?"

"And why should I choose to legitimize you, out of all my brother's other bastards?"

Roran thought about his answer for a moment then replied, "Your Grace, these past few years have torn our country apart. Between the Winter and the wars, there is not much left to Westeros. I think a man of the people, who has worked with his two hands, has suffered alongside them, and has been given an opportunity to change the situation of the common-folk, will be a better king than another highborn who just looks out for his family and himself. I want to provide and care for the people of Westeros, not only those who have already been given much."

"A strong answer… a man's answer." Stannis replied. Turning to Gendry he said, "I did not believe you could do it. But it seems I was wrong. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"I do, Your Grace. She's worth it."

xXx

Winterfell-Present Day

xXx

"Then I made my way back here to be with you," Gendry's eyes welled up.

Arya started, "Gen, I-"

"Arya, wait. I'm not done yet," Gendry took both of her hands in his. "Arya Stark, I love you. I've loved you since we were children. I never regretted anything more than I regret leaving you for the Brotherhood. I wanted so desperately to tell you when I first found you again. But I was so scared because I didn't recognize the girl turned killer But I refused to give up on you, because theArya I knew was in there somewhere."

"Then I fell even more in love with you. Your ever-present strengths, your slowly revealed weaknesses, and your determined spirit. You weren't going to rest until you returned home. When I realized that there was a chance that my home might not be your home, I had to fix it."

"Everything I've done these past two years. I've done for us. To be by your side forever. Arya, I will never leave you again. I love you so much. Please, m'lday, please say you'll have me."

She was too overwhelmed to speak so there was only one thing to do-Arya kissed him. She kissed him with all she was feeling. Her excitement, her loss, her hope-her love for him. All cascading from her lips desperately to his. He pulled her gently onto his lap and kissed her back, his hands snaking around her waist and holding her close. Arya's arms wrapped around his neck and held him close to her. She gasped as Gendry released her lips in favor of her neck , his warm tongue sending shivers down her spine with the scrumptious spirals it was drawing.

Holding on tightly to his shoulders, Arya put her legs on either side of his waist and squeezed her thighs around him. She pulled his tunic over his head and admired his firm muscles in arms and chest. As her fingers ran delicately over his skin, Gendry shivered and latched onto the crook of her neck. He could feel her throat vibrate as she moaned in pleasure.

Massaging her hips with his calloused hands, he slowly rubbed up her back and gently pulled her tunic off as well. He could feel her skin warm with a blush as he gazed upon her firm round breasts. He raised his eyebrows in question and she nodded gently. His hands grasped her breasts tenderly, squeezing firmly and eliciting little moans from Arya. He bent his head down to suck on her nipple, teasing the tip with his tongue. Not wanting to miss a bit of her he continued to squeeze and pinch the other.

Arya pulled his head up to kiss her again. A heat was building in her center, a throbbing aching need for…something. She could feel his member growing hard through his breeches. In unfamiliar territory, Arya experimentally rocked her hips against him. A slight groan escaped from Gendry.

Arya instantly lifted her hips off of his. "Did I hurt you?"

Gendry shook his head no. Breathily he replied, "Please….dont stop."

Arya placed herself upon his hips once again and gently rocked back and forth. It was pleasurable, a building throbbing pressure inside her. But it wasn't quite enough. She still wanted…

"More. Please Gendry, more."

Gendry grasped her hips with his heated hands. "Arya…more is…is your maidenhead. Are you sure-"

Arya kissed him passionately. "I've never been more sure you stupid bull."

Removing both of their breeches swiftly, Gendry laid Arya back on the bed. Kissing her forehead, her nose, and her lips, he said softly, "I don't know….I don't know if I'm going to hurt you. I've heard it hurts maidens….but I just want you to…to tell me if I do. Ok?"

Arya nodded and Gendry licked one of his fingers. Tantalizingly he slid it inside her. She could feel the pulsating inside her increase as he tenderly pushed his finger in and out of her. He kissed her stomach and up to her breasts as he continued to pump his hand inside of her. The friction, oh the friction was driving her mad. As he sucked on her nipple, she gasped out, "Gendry, oh please Gendry!"

Abruptly he pulled his finger out and looked at her questioningly. She propped up on her elbows and glared at him. "Why'd you stop?"

"I want…uhm…" He blushed and she got his meaning. She leaned up and kissed him, her tongue dancing aginst his.

"Of course," she whispered, her grey eyes alight with love and lust.

He awkwardly positioned himself at her entrance and kissed her forehead. He pushed his member into her and she gasped as he filled her. He paused but at her nod, he pumped in and out of her slowly-pulling out almost to the tip and then back into her wet pulsing center. When she clawed at his back and moaned, he picked up the speed. The friction and pure pleasure caused her eyes to roll back into her the world exploded and imploded in between her legs. Stars flashed behind her eyes and she cried out, Gendry grunting as he came undone as well.

Suddenly she knew she never wanted anything more than to lay in bed with Gendry-all day every day- and do this. Love him, be with him, and have him as her own.

He wrapped her in his arms, their sweat and breath and limbs all tangled up in one another. Before she drifted off, she pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck and whispered,

"I love you Gendry."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and replied, "I love you too Arya."

Just before dawn, Sansa went to check on her sister. Having heard from Sandor that Gendry had indeed returned and he desperately wanted to speak to Arya, she had decided to give the two their space. Carefully treading into Arya's room, unsure what she would find, Sansa lifted a candle above her head to allow her to see into the darkened room.

A small smile graced her face at the sight of her sister sleeping soundly under the furs, Gendry's arms wrapped firmly around her.

Sneaking out of her sister's chamber, the Queen in the North tiptoed to the bottom of the tower, where Sandor was waiting for her.

"So?" he asked. " What's the verdict?"

Sansa grinned, "You owe me a picnic in the godswood, my dear. I saw no dead bodies or broken furniture. It seems that both are happily naked and asleep."

Sandor growled and kissed her forehead. "I should have known better than to bet against you, my lovely queen."

xXx

Epilogue-Four Months Later

xXx

Gendry placed his cloak of blue and grey around Arya's shoulders.

"You are mine," he said to her smiling.

"And I am yours." Arya replied.

"Now and forever," they said together.

A cheer went up through the godswood as the Smith and Training Mistress of Winterfell were joined in marriage before the heart tree.

Nymeria let out a howl of joy and Brynden gave and answering one as the company gathered laughed and applauded.

Arya grinned and grasped Gendry's hand, giving it a squeeze, " I love you, you stupid bull."

Gendry laughed, "I will always love you more. My Arya."

FIN.


End file.
